Once Upon A Holiday
by MrsRen
Summary: Frigid. Boring. That's how Hermione Granger sees herself following a bitter breakup on the previous Christmas. Planning to make the annual trip home to her family, she's not looking forward to discussing her relationship status. That's where Harry comes in.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: I know this is outside of my normal ship, but I find them extremely fun to write. If you are looking for dramione, please hit the back button and visit my other stories or the archive. This is not one. Thank you to the woman in the group (not sure she'd want her name on the internet.) for editing the first half of the first chapter. Any other mistakes, unfortunately, belong to myself, or Grammarly. Grammarly and I don't get along much. I am uploading this all in one go since it's already completed on AO3, and I don't see a reason not to since Christmas is literally about to end.**

 **Written for the Facebook group Harmony & Co's Christmas Advent! Thank you for giving me the chance to write for this ship again! **

**Pairing: Harry Potter x Hermione Granger. (Harmony.)**

 **Warnings: There will be sexual content, so if that's not your thing, you know what to do. There is no Ron bashing here if that is a deal breaker for you. Though Harry does not like Oliver Wood very much.**

 **Summary: Frigid. Boring. That's how Hermione Granger sees herself following a bitter breakup on the previous Christmas. Planning to make the annual trip home to her family, she's not looking forward to discussing her relationship status. That's where Harry comes in.**

* * *

 _Chapter One_

Crookshanks lounged at the foot of her bed, meowing in indignation as she pulled her jumper out from under him. He'd been curled into a ball on the fabric, and now the logo of the Holyhead Harpies was absolutely matted in fur. Rolling her eyes at her familiar, Hermione sighed and tossed the shirt back onto the bed. It wouldn't do if she meandered through Diagon Alley while reeking of Kneazle.

Sighing to herself _again_ , Hermione put her hands on her hips and surveyed the room around her. While the rest of her flat appeared to be neat and tidy, her bedroom was an absolute wreck. With holiday wrapping - all kinds, foil, there was even one with snowflakes! - strewn about the room, she was only seconds from tearing her hair out.

Christmas was going to be a pain in her arse, just as it had been the year before. And for the same bloody reason that she hadn't wanted to attend her cousin's wedding earlier in the spring. Grumbling under her breath, she noticed Crooks was once more fast asleep and had now cocooned himself in the offending shirt.

In a corner of the room, there was a stack of presents ready to be shrunk to an appropriate size so they would fit in her beaded bag. In only forty-eight hours - hours that would pass by all too quickly - she would be visiting her family and likely hating every moment.

She adored her parents, and she was grateful every day that they were able to remember her. Hermione was quick to remind herself that at least she had her parents, even if they took too much of an interest in her love life these days - or rather, lack thereof. She'd dated Ron Weasley for exactly three weeks, two days, and approximately two hours.

It had been undoubtedly the longest three weeks, two days, and approximately two hours of her life, and that included the Battle of Hogwarts and all that before. The split was amicable, ending with them going their separate ways but remaining mates. They simply realized they weren't compatible but were meant to be just friends.

And then came Oliver Wood: charming, muscled from professional quidditch - imagine her surprise when he didn't prattle on with his career constantly after the sport had been all he cared for in Hogwarts - and well, it was easy being with him. Too easy, Hermione thought as she surveyed her room for something else to wear. It would be nice to say there was some terrible reason they had split. Perhaps if he'd cheated on her with a Quidditch groupie as _Witch Weekly_ frequently said. Or if he deemed her too boring - which had happened and was the reason she didn't date in Hogwarts.

That wasn't it though. She had herself, and only herself to blame.

They dated for over a year, not quite enough to say two years, but definitely more than one. He was polite and kind. Oliver _was_ well endowed. She chose to look beyond the fact that he always had a joke about his cock that corresponded with his last name.

He'd loved her.

Hermione had loved him, that much she knew, but unfortunately for her, she was dreadful at relationships. Oliver was kindhearted and he never told anyone the truth behind their split: that Hermione Granger might have been good at everything else, but she was _not_ a good girlfriend.

What the fuck was she meant to do with that rattling around in her head? It hurt like hell to hear someone say it, and although she'd argued it, Hermione knew when she was wrong. As much as she loathed to admit it, the evidence was there.

She frequently dashed out of dinners - " _My career is very important to me, Oliver."_ Hermione would say - but he would point out that it was so much different when every single dinner was interrupted.

Last year, her family had been kind enough not to mention her breakup. As highly as she regarded Oliver Wood, dumping her on the morning of Christmas Eve had not been kind at all. Ronald wanted to beat the hell out of him, Harry had rather imaginative ideas of where to shove a broom, and she just wanted to be alone.

The Grangers would at least try to ignore the empty place setting Great Aunt Matilda insisted on setting just in case little Mione brought home a new fella - Matilda's words, not her own - even though she knew full well she wasn't.

Rifling through her closet, she tossed all of the possible clothes she could need onto her bed. She didn't hear the floo roar to life in the living room as she dragged her trainers out of the closet. On second thought, if her other Great Aunt, Mildred was there, she ought to grab the heels to wear lest she wanted to be bought a pair of stilettos.

"This must be the stupidest, bloody, goddamned holiday!" Hermione growled, chunking the heel behind her.

"What's gotten into you - fuck!" Harry yelped behind her, followed by the loud sound of him crashing against her floor. Her best friend was sprawled on the carpet, his auror uniform wrinkling as he rubbed the back of his head.

"You could have cut me with these blasted things." He held up the heel, glaring at it before tossing it into the rubbish bin.

She gaped at him, scrambling for the shoe before something could get on it.

"Harry!" Hermione snapped. "Don't throw my footwear into the trash."

He rolled his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows. "Well, don't try to slice my neck open with them."

"It's not my fault you snuck up on me." She countered, dragging another pair of heels from the closet floor. _Best to take both._

"I yelled your name before I came in here. Though it's not surprising you didn't hear me since you were cursing the most wonderful time of the year."

"Most wonderful time of the year, my arse." She hissed, climbing to her feet. Offering him her hand, she shouldn't have been shocked when he just yanked her into the floor with him. "What are you doing here?"

Harry laid on the floor beside her, not touching her beyond when he brushed a curl from his forehead and his elbow brushed against her arm. "It's my lunch break. Am I not allowed to pop in to see my best friend since childhood?"

Hermione snorted, tilting her head to get a good look at him. "You only mention that I'm your best friend when you want something."

His cheeks flushed. "I don't mean to be so unappreciative.." Harry murmured. "Yet you know me so well...I wanted to ask you what you were doing for Christmas."

Hermione bit her lip. "I'll be in the middle of Muggle London with my family. They're big on the holidays now that their memories have been restored, as you know."

He nodded. "That must be nice. What?" Harry asked at her scoff.

"My parents are lovely human beings who won't bring up my relationship status. Great Aunt Mildred and Matilda however.." Hermione trailed off. "Do you want something to eat? It's your lunch hour after all." Hermione sprung to her feet once more, making her way into the kitchen. "Sandwich?"

"That's fine." He replied, taking a seat at the bar in her kitchen. "Hermione -"

"Tea?"

He set his glasses down on the counter. "Sure, but I'd like to talk about -"

Hermione picked up his glasses, squinting at the broken lens. "Harry, you've broken them again? Why don't you ever fix them?" Pulling her wand from her back pocket, she continued with a mild lecture of how he ought to repair them more often.

Until he grew exasperated with her. "Hermione." He stressed her name, leaning on his forearms. "Would it be too much trouble for you to lecture me later?"

Her cheeks grew hot. "I'm sorry. I'm acting like a mother hen. What is it you wanted to talk about?" Hermione placed a plate in front of him, though he didn't so much as look at it.

"I've been formally uninvited to Christmas at the Burrow this year." He said, his expression not wavering.

Her mouth fell open. "What?" It was nearly a screech with how loud it was. "You and Ginny have been on such good terms! Why would you be uninvited?" Hermione hurried around the island, taking the seat in front of him while resting her chin on her hand.

Harry sipped his tea, not looking one bit upset. "She's bringing her new boyfriend home this year, and he's not 'comfortable' with my presence."

"And she just," Hermione gritted her teeth. "Harry, that's not fair to you. You're family, you've always spent the holidays there! What does Molly have to say about this? Surely she must disagree."

He shook his head. "She doesn't mind, but she promised to send me homemade dinner to my flat on Christmas. Mrs Weasley said I could 'come by after Ginny and Blaise have left for Italy. If you didn't know, he's taking her on a _lovely_ holiday in his family's villa'."

She blinked, not sure if she wanted to giggle at the horrible imitation of Molly Weasley's voice or break a pan over the woman's head. "I'm so sorry."

He waved her off. "I wanted to ask you if you had plans, or if you'd like to go somewhere with me if you would be home anyway. I'll just -"

Hermione's eyes widened as the gears in her head turned, and an idea formed. Tilting her head to the side, she cut him off. "Harry, I'm not going to let you sit in Grimmauld Place for the next week. That sounds like a horrible time."

He shrugged. "It's nothing, Hermione. It's a handful of days. Do you suppose McGonagall would let me take her up on her offer to watch the kids who stay over the holiday?"

She remembered. "Well," Hermione coughed, clearing her throat. "I'm sure Minerva would be overjoyed that you would help."

He nodded, taking the blue, ceramic plate from her hands as she turned back to face him. "Mind if I use your owl? Be better if I got this to her as soon as possible."

She was rigid, gripping the edge of the counter. "Or," Hermione began, her voice uncharacteristically high, "you could do me a favour instead. I think you'll find that it benefits us both. More so me than you, but it's your duty as my best friend -"

Harry barked a laugh, waving his hands. "Before you begin a well thought out argument that you've no doubt just thought of,"

Hermione huffed as she folded her arms across her chest. "It's not an argument. It's more of a proposition than anything else." She murmured. She'd turned away from him, pulling a glass from the overhead cupboard. Water trickling over the rim as she turned back to him, she was met with widened eyes and raised eyebrows. "Oh, not that kind of proposition." Hermione rolled her eyes.

A playful grin curved his lips. "I wasn't aware there was any other kind."

She scoffed. "Well, I don't know what sorts of witches you've been around, but this is strictly a favour."

He waved for her to go on, lifting the mug she slid to him to his lips. "Out with it. I've never seen you hesitate before."

"As you ought to remember, Oliver and I broke up some time ago."

"I vaguely recall reading about it in a few magazines."

She snorted. "Utter hogwash, all of them. Moving on from the gossip rags that you shouldn't waste your money on, I have a dilemma with going home for family Christmas." She muttered, tipping her glass to her mouth and swallowing. "I don't have a boyfriend."

His reaction was exactly what she expected, and it as unequivocally Harry. "I'm not following."

 _And still so oblivious,_ Hermione thought. "I'll just come out with it since subtle hints won't work with you."

"Hey!" He shouted, his voice muffled by food.

"I don't have a boyfriend, and I have two great aunts who will pester me, quite relentlessly might I add over the fact. Since you aren't going anywhere, would you like to come home with me for Christmas?"

A little light went off behind his eyes. "Hermione, you must know that it's not a good idea," Harry said softly, and her face fell. The useless organ in her ribcage rattled as if he'd truly rejected her. "I mean, we've known each other for a long time.."

Hermione glanced up as he trailed off, only to find him smirking. "You're joking." She deadpanned.

"Never knew you felt this way about me, Mione." He grinned, laughing and dodging the rag she threw at him. "I'm happy to help."

She found herself smiling even though he'd teased her, and made her feel silly. "You're a prat. We leave in two days, so I suggest you pack when you leave the Ministry tonight."

* * *

In the years since the war - five to be exact - she had spent the majority of her life on her career. Only now was she beginning to regret it. In one way or another, Oliver's words stuck with her.

Her heels clicking against the tile as she rushed through the atrium, calling out for someone to hold the lift, she was overtaken by a wave of regret. Glancing around, she knew that she was going places inside the Ministry.

Hermione was squashed along the side of the wall, someone stepping on the hem of her robe and it was nearly caught in the lift as they swept past her. Grumbling to herself, she ripped the fabric free. Pulling the now torn garment from her shoulders, she hurried for her office. There would be a spare, one that her assistant conveniently kept at the ready, in the closet behind her desk.

Hermione passed Ron, scoffing under her breath as he leaned against Katie's desk. His eyes lit up at the sight of her, and then he'd already returned his bright smile to the seemingly docile witch behind the mahogany desk.

Hermione laid her tattered robe over the edge of the sofa, collapsing into the seat behind the desk. There was a roll of parchment from Minister Shacklebolt, one that must have been six feet in length and was no doubt for her case on Werewolf Rights. Hermione reached for the seal, and just as she was about to settle into what would be the rest of her morning, she noticed it.

Stuck to the back of her nameplate - a glossy, bronze rectangle that Oliver had gifted her after her sought-after promotion - there was a scrap of parchment. Snatching it up and examining it further, she recognized Harry's scrawl.

 _When do you want to make up the story of how you fell for me?_

Her laughter could be heard across the floor.

* * *

Her day was longer than necessary.

She thrived on having something to do, flourished under pressure. As the Department Head for the Magical Creatures Division, she had her work cut out for her of course. The scroll tucked neatly in her bag, she flooed into her flat from the connected fireplace in her office. Even though she'd been in the office for six months, she liked the routine of walking through the atrium each morning.

 _It was routine_ , she thought.

 _It's because Oliver accused you of never leaving your office, and a tiny part of you is worried everyone thinks you sleep in your office,_ an annoying, nagging whisper sounded between her ears.

Tossing her bag onto the sofa, Hermione made her way into the bedroom. The room was spotless again now that the chaos of wrapping presents was over. Hermione heaved a sigh, twisting her skirt around and unzipping it. She unbuttoned her blouse as the skirt slid down her legs, and she stepped out of it.

They were due to leave in twelve hours, and she had no intentions of makes the trip without feeling comfortable. She grabbed a pair of black joggers, stepping into them, and pulling them to her waist before tying the drawstring in a knot. Her fingers brushed against the sleeve of her Falmouth Falcons jumper, which was really Oliver's. Reminding herself that it was comfortable, but it would scream inconsistencies if she wore it, she grabbed a plain jumper instead.

Now, to just pop into Harry's flat to be absolutely sure he was ready to go and then she would sleep until the last possible moment. She'd already packed a week ago, and her suitcases were nearly sat beside the door of her flat, and the presents were shrunk inside of them. There would be time to unshrink them in the rental car.

Sliding her feet into plush slippers, Hermione tied her hair up as she padded across her living room. She grabbed the last bit of floo powder, stepping into the fireplace. "Twelve Grimmauld Place!" Hermione called out and disappeared amongst the green flames.

Grimmauld Place hadn't changed since the first time she'd ever stepped inside of it. Harry insisted that one day he would remodel it, wash away any traces of the family Sirius had hated so much, but he'd never lifted a finger. In fact, she was certain he'd never cast as much as a simple cleaning charm.

"Harry?"

She was met with silence. Hermione brushed soot from her clothes, tucking her hands into her pockets. Checking the kitchen as she strode by, she made her way up the stairs while glancing side to side. Harry didn't use but maybe three rooms of the entire home, the others sealed with magic.

Somewhere in the house was the portrait of Walburga Black, and Hermione had little doubt that she was screaming. "Harry?" She tried again as she reached the top of the stairs.

His shower was running, the steady stream of water echoing against the tile of the shower. The door was cracked open, but she only knocked on the door. "Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione?" The water cut off, followed by the sound of bottles falling. He ripped the door open, water rolling down his bare chest, and he'd quickly slung a towel around his hips. "What are you doing here?"

She stepped back from him as water slid off the tips of his hair and landed on her jumper. "I wanted to double check that you had everything packed."

He snorted. "Mother hen." Harry accused.

She arched an eyebrow. "So you've already packed then?"

He scratched the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. "Not technically. I'm nearly done."

"How much is nearly done?"

Silence.

Harry looked everywhere but her. "I think I threw a sock in my bag?"

She shrieked, "Harry!" before storming into his bedroom. The room was a mess, and she stared openmouthed at the sheets that were tossed haphazardly into the floor. His closet was left wide open, clothes spilling from it.

He gripped her shoulder, sniggering under his breath. "See, I started to pack, but I was called in by the Head Auror before I made any progress." He motioned toward the dresser and the black duffel that laid across the wood. "I can throw in some clothes before I head out."

Hermione looked behind her. "Wait, you're being called in now?" She asked, groaning to herself. "Whatever for?"

Harry was silent as he tugged his auror uniform from the hook behind the door. "It's not something I can disclose."

She nodded. "Go. I'll pack for you." _So much for crawling into bed and getting a full night's sleep._ "The house is an utter mess, you know that, don't you?" Hermione stared at the opposing wall as he dropped his towel without even warning her.

"I don't find myself to be home too often." He replied. "You can turn around, Hermione." Harry chuckled. " _Accio_ glasses," he called out, and he slid them onto his face as he buttoned his top. "Get some sleep. I'll have time -"

She rubbed her temples. "You're going to stumble through the fireplace fifteen minutes before we need to leave. It won't take me long. Thirty minutes at the most. Now _go._ "

Grinning as he gave her a two finger salute, Hermione stood frozen as he left the room. She heard him call out for the Ministry from downstairs, and she muttered a very quiet, "bollocks." when the house was empty save for her.

* * *

Packing truly only took forty-five minutes. It wasn't as if it was hard. Harry James Potter barely wore anything outside of his uniform, but when he did it was only denim, a shirt and a button down shirt over that. She'd waved her wand around the room, his clothing flying into the duffel bag - conveniently folded as there was a charm for that - and she braved a trip into his bathroom for his toiletries.

While she ought to have gone home, Hermione chose to stay. His house looked as if a twister had come through it, scattering everything about. So she cleaned it, at least the rooms that weren't sealed, from top to bottom.

It was half-past five when Hermione finished - the kitchen taking the most of her time - and she was far too tired to drag herself to the fireplace. Instead, she crawled into his bed, yanking the covers over her and swiftly falling asleep.

Harry found her like that, her hair spread over the pillow as she stretched across his bed like a cat. He nudged her side, laughing quietly as she shied away from his touch. "Five more minutes?" She murmured, fisting the blanket in his hand.

"Hermione, we need to leave now." He told her, peeling to blanket back so he could see her. "You cleaned my entire house."

Her eyes still shut, she yanked the blanket once more. Only Harry was still stronger, and her hand slipped - hitting her right in the mouth. "Fuck." Hermione hissed, sitting straight up as her eyes watered. "That hurt."

He snorted, sitting in front of her. "Let me see it." Harry urged her, trying to pull her hand away by her wrist.

"I'm fine," Hermione argued, and she could taste metallic as she ran her tongue along the seam of her lips. "Harry, really I'm fine!"

His fingers were warm as they wrapped around her wrist, tugging it forward so he could see where her teeth pierced the supple skin. "Merlin, you nearly bit through your lip when you punched yourself."

"This is really your fault." She muttered, crossing her legs. Glancing down, she could see that her jumper was one Crooks had recently napped on. "If you had just let me sleep, this would have never happened."

He rolled his eyes. Not bothering with his wand, he murmured under his breath, " _Accio_ salved." They could hear the medicine cabinet in the bathroom opening, and a small jar landed in his open palm a moment later. "Don't cover your face again," Harry grumbled, twisting the lid off and dipping his finger into the mixture.

With her hands folded in her lap, Hermione sat still as he rubbed the cream across her bottom lip. The stinging vanished instantly, and she begrudgingly thanked him. "What time is it?"

With the sunlight pouring in through the windows, it was a silly question to ask. "It's time for us to leave for your parents." He smiled. "Why did you clean?"

She shrugged, yawning as she did so. "It desperately needed it, Harry. I don't know how you can stand to live with it so dirty."

"I'm hardly home. I'm at yours, or on a mission, occasionally I visit the joke shop with Ron." Harry replied, taking her hands and pulling her from the bed. "We still haven't decided on our story for our relationship."

"How long have we been dating?" Hermione asked him suddenly, the corner of her mouth quirking up.

"Eight months," Harry said cheekily, ruffling her hair - his hand tragically was then tangled in her mane - for emphasis. "You couldn't help but fall for me whenever I played a trick on you for April Fools."

Hermione scoffed. "My father would know we were lying the second you said that. First of all - none of your tricks get the best of me anymore, Harry. Second, the first question we would be asked is why I didn't bring you to my birthday party if we were already together."

"You were embarrassed."

"Of what?" She snorted. "No, we've been together since Halloween. That's as good a story as any other." Hermione told him, hurrying down the stairs as he levitated his luggage behind them. "There was a party -"

"Perhaps we were stuck in a closet after a game of spin the -"

Hermione choked on her laugh, and nearly tripped at the bottom of the staircase. "Harry," she scolded, "be realistic, would you? My parents know I would never be caught dead in a game like that."

"You couldn't pass up the chance to be alone with me." He smirked, ducking out of the way as she swatted at him. "I don't think we should worry about the trivial details. It was a Halloween party, and we'd spent the majority of the day together."

"Are you going for the cliche 'it just happened' explanation?" Hermione smiled, grabbing a handful of floo powder.

Harry stepped into the fireplace beside her, his chest rumbling with his laughter as he pressed against her back. "Oh, because best friends falling for each other isn't cliche?"

Hermione huffed. "At least it's believable." With that, she shouted out for her flat.

* * *

Jean Granger was the first one out of the house, and down the steps when she pulled into the drive. Loud laughter echoed throughout the neighbourhood as she threw her arms around Hermione's neck and squeezed. "It's so nice to see you, sweetheart." She murmured into her ear, smoothing her hair down. "Harry?" Her mother admonished. Pulling back, Jean peeked over Hermione's shoulder. "Well, I always thought it might be him in the end." She winked.

Hermione followed Harry inside, dragging her suitcase behind her. Not to her surprise, but to her own disappointment, both of her great aunts were standing in the foyer. "Hermione!' Mildred cooed, ripping her in for a hug that squeezed the breath out of her. "Who is this?"

Hermione sighed, reaching out to grab Harry's hand, sliding her fingers through his own. "Well, this is Harry -"

Harry reached out to take Mildred's hand, kissing the back of it. "Hello, I'm Harry. I'm Hermione's boyfriend. It's nice to finally meet you, she talks so much about you."

"Only good things I hope." Matilda chimed, bumping her twin out of the way with her hip. As if she were all too eager to receive the same treatment as Mildred. "Well, out with how the two of you got together. No, dear, I don't want to hear it from you." Matilda pinched Hermione's cheek. "You'll be sure to leave out the best parts."

"God forbid my love life remain private." Hermione laughed.

She shouldn't have been at all surprised when Harry embellished the story, but she certainly was.

* * *

 **I know this is being published all at once, but I would greatly appreciate reviews if you feel so inclined to leave your thoughts on each chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

Her parents adored him.

Of course, they had always liked the boy as her friend, as her closest friend if you wanted to be technical. This was wholly different however, and it was frightening how easy it was to pretend with him. It was as easy as sliding into the curve of his arm while he lounged on the couch. She wasn't surprised for her mother to pull her aside after dinner and let her know that Harry was _more_ than welcome to stay in her room with her.

After all, her great aunts had moved into the only guest room. Her dad looked as if he would rather her boyfriend sleep on the couch, or perhaps even in the literal dog house in the backyard. A tiny, dingy covering he'd built for a puppy Hermione had as a child.

As her parents bickered from behind the kitchen island, the sink piled full of dishes, Hermione took Harry by the hand and led him away from the room. "We're staying in my room, but you can't laugh." She said seriously, her fingers still intertwined with his as they reached the top of the stairs.

His eyes flickered with mischief as he bit down on his bottom lip. "Why would I laugh?" Harry asked her, glancing behind them. "Mildred is peeking around the entryway to get a look at us. Should we give her something to look at?"

Her eyes widened, a girlish giggle slipping from her lips as Harry yanked her into the curve of his body. She half expected for him to kiss her, to simply drop his head and press his lips to hers, but he didn't. While it must have looked like he did from her great aunt's perspective, Harry had only pulled her close against the hard feel of his chest, and she did her part of the charade by sliding her hands up his back. "I'll bet -" Hermione began in a whisper.

A shriek echoed through the house, a high and teasing lilt of, "They're snogging on the stairs!" Great Aunt Mildred cried out. Following it was the sound of a pan crashing against the black and white checkered tile.

Then it was Matilda, "I don't believe you!"

"I daresay I haven't lost my eyesight yet, you old coot. It appeared as if he was moments from ravishing her against the railing." Mildred argued, likely waving her hand about when she launched into one of her hysterics.

Harry's eyes drew together. "Ravishing? I barely touched you." He laughed lowly.

Hermione's laugh was muffled against his shoulder. "Well, they're both believers now."

And then there was her father's voice, cutting through the feminine giggles like a rising crescendo. "There will be _no_ ravishing of my daughter in this house. Potter!" Frank called out, his shoes squeaking against the tile in his mad haste to get to the stairs.

Her eyes shot open as she snatched his hand and dragged him into the room to the right before her father could lecture them about well, anything. "Well," she sighed, pulling her wand from her boot. "That could have gone better, don't you think?" Hermione cast a simple locking charm. Assuming she couldn't be too careful in a house with her great aunts, who were too nosy for their own good.

Harry smiled, walking around the room. "I thought there would be more books here." He told her, running his fingers along the book spines that decorated the built-in shelf. "Did they redecorate exactly as it was before the war?"

She nodded, sitting at the edge of the bed, kicking her boots off. "Not that I spent much time here before returning to Hogwarts. They wanted me to stay as much as they wanted me to go."

He turned to face her, his lips dragging down into a frown. "I didn't know that." At her shrug, "Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

Hermione gnawed her bottom lip while pulling the shirt over her head. Still in the thin camisole, she fidgeted with the hem of it while avoiding eye contact. "There was never a good time." She finally said. "Would you turn around while I change?"

Harry faced the shelf once more, raking his fingers through his hair. "You could have owled me, Hermione."

She pushed her jeans to the floor, kicking them into a corner as she unzipped her bag. "You were in training - Ron, and you both. It wasn't so pressing I needed to interrupt that." Hermione said, stepping into a pair of cotton shorts she preferred to sleep in. "You can turn around now."

"I sent you a letter every week." He murmured, his eyes drifting toward the door. "Do you think they're listening?" At her nod, he cast a quiet, " _muffliato._ "

She collapsed on the bed, her feet aching from following her mother through the market for two hours earlier that day. Holiday crowds were a nightmare. "Fine." Hermione groaned, squeezing her eyes shut at the memory. "I didn't want to tell you."

"Why the bloody hell not?" His voice was more of a low growl, and there was a _thud_ as his shoes were tossed against the trim running along the carpet. "I usually sleep in my boxers..will that be a problem for you?"

Hermione snorted. "I've seen you shirtless before. I'm not sure why it would be a problem now."

Rolling his eyes, he unbuttoned his jeans and tossed them on top of hers. "I was just being polite."

"Cute."

Sliding into the bed beside her, but still leaving a two feet gap between them, he cleared his throat. Harry propped his head up beneath his hand, staring down at her. "Why wouldn't you want to tell me?"

"Harry..it's silly. Why are we even talking about this now? It's been five years, nearly six this spring."

"Because," he spoke through gritted teeth, "you brought it to my attention."

"A move I now regret immensely." She replied. "Alright," Hermione caved, pulling the blanket over her head, a move Harry copied as he slipped under the blanket so she couldn't hide. "I didn't want to complain of how my parents were upset with me. At first, they were thrilled to see me, after the initial part of not knowing who I was. My mother cried for a straight hour, and my father was too shocked to form a sentence. It was a happy reunion, but I was home that entire summer.

"They didn't want me to go back to Hogwarts. It was more so my father who was angry with me for using magic on them, and as much as they wanted me to be here, they didn't at the same time."

He exhaled a long breath, his hand sneaking across the mattress to find hers. In a move that was wholly Harry, and not just for the charade they were putting on, he pulled her hand to his chest. "Why wouldn't you want to tell me that? You must realize I would have found a way to visit. Kingsley would have let Ron and I leave."

She shook her head. "I know that. Ron had lost Fred, and you..it didn't feel right to complain of how my parents were alive, but they were a wee bit mad at me." Hermione finished, and once it was out there, she thought it sounded even more foolish than it had in her head at eighteen.

"You.." He trailed off. "You fucking stupid witch." He murmured, tugging her across the bed, and squeezing her tightly. His arms looped around her waist, and his heart beating to where she could hear the steady beat as her head rested against his chest.

"That's not very nice." She laughed. "It's nothing now." Hermione pressed her palms against his chest and slid back to her side. "We're all rather happy now."

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me that you've kept from me?" Harry asked playfully, sliding his arm beneath the pillow and laying down to sleep.

Hermione shrugged. "Nothing comes to mind at the moment, but I would like to ask you to turn off the light." She yawned, snuggling into the blanket once more.

"But I've just gotten comfy." He whined.

She snorted. "Some boyfriend you are."

"I'll be the best boyfriend you've ever had. Not that there's much competition. You weren't compatible with Ron. Oliver is an idiot -"

"Oliver had a good reason." She muttered, her heart clenching. That wasn't a conversation she planned to have any time soon, not when it embarrassed her as much as it did. "There was Krum though, and he _is_ a phenomenal quidditch player. A great snogger too." She winked.

He mumbled how he would make her eat her words, but he'd already fallen into a fast sleep before she could ask what that meant.

* * *

Hermione stirred at half past six. As it was her usual routine as if she would be walking through the atrium in a half hour. Only she was in her childhood home, and Harry Potter was sprawled out across her bed as if he owned it. Covering her mouth so as not to wake him with a loud laugh, Hermione quietly slid out of the bed.

Tiptoeing across the hallway, she let herself into the chilly bathroom.

The rest of the house was still silent as Hermione made her way back into her bedroom. The carpet was soft against the soles of her feet, and she made her way to the bookshelf. Pulling a worn copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ from the shelf, she thought to relax with a book before the world woke up. Sliding back onto her side of the bed, though it was admittedly cramped since Harry had stretched out even more, she flipped the book open to the first page.

Bathed in the soft light of the lamp on the bedside table, she began at the beginning, at the famous line about a man being in want of a wife. The faint sound of a bird chirping in the three beyond her window, Hermione rested the hardback on her knees and read of Mrs Bennet's exuberance, of her need to marry each of her five daughters off.

She's to the untimely - much unwanted - arrival of Mr Collins when Harry stirs at her side. Glancing down, he's twisted himself amongst the covers and having ripped them completely off of her. His brows are furrowed, and his eyes have been squeezed shut. "Harry?" She whispered, brushing the hair from his face. "Harry." She nudged his side.

Still, he said nothing, and she was content to let him sleep so she could continue her book.

A blissful forty-five minutes had passed when it happened - he snored. A loud sound that destroyed the tranquil silence, and she slapped the ball of her hand against her forehead. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Hermione muttered, but she brushed it off. Perhaps it would only happen once, and she could lounge for another hour before her mum put the kettle on.

She didn't even make it two full paragraphs - two that she very happened to enjoy, thank you very much - before he snored again. Snapping the book shut, Hermione opened the drawer of the side table and set it inside. "Harry." Hermione hissed, shaking him. Yet he didn't open his eyes, and he definitely didn't even realize what a nuisance he was being and _then_ -

He snored. Again.

"Harry James!" She growled, her hand sliding below the blanket to tickle him. While he might be a well-established auror now, she still knew he was horribly ticklish. She only realized he'd discarded his shirt at some point during the night. Her fingers slid along the bare skin of his side, inching across until she found where he was most ticklish.

He responded immediately, a loud shriek that was far too high for anyone to believe it had come from him tearing from his mouth. "Hermione!" He groaned, capturing her hand, and rolling her onto her back. Harry pinned her hand to her side, laying on her other while he rested his head on her stomach. "That wasn't kind. I was having a good dream."

"You were snoring."

"I was?"

"Quite loudly, ruined my morning reading." She mumbled, pushing him off of her by the shoulders. "No doubt you've just woken the entire house either."

Harry stood from the bed, facing the window that was now covered in a thin layer of frost as he stretched his arms high above his head. The muscles in his back contorted as he did so, her shoulder blades drawing together. "Well, the locking charm should be up."

Hermione rolled her eyes, taking her book out, and flipping it to the page she had been on once more. "No, I took off the charms when I went to the bathroom. I didn't think we would need it, but _someone_ decided to wake up the entire neighbourhood."

"Have you seen my glasses?"

She shook her head, crossing her legs beneath the heated blanket and returning to the failed proposal of Mr Darcy. "Not since they were last on your face, no." He looked around, carefully stepping so he wouldn't fall. Not that it helped much, considering he tripped over his trainers and crashed to the floor. "For fuck's sake, Harry." Hermione snorted.

Not a second later, her bedroom door was thrown up to reveal her aging aunt Mildred, who wasn't even looking into the room yet. She was dressed in a floral nightgown, and a bright pair of slippers on her feet. "I knew it! I knew the two of you were sleeping together!" It was only then that she looked into the room. Matilda crammed her head in so she could get a good luck, and her face fell in disappointment.

Once more, Hermione snapped the book shut. "Oh, why didn't you tell me, Harry? I would have put my book down."

Picking himself off the floor while being ogled by two women that were well into their sixties, he quipped, "I somehow doubt that."

"Well," Hermione snarkily replied, "you are no Mr Darcy."

* * *

Gathered around the table in the dining room, Harry kept pinching her thigh as they ate breakfast. She glared at him, stealing his food in retaliation. Which only made them even more of the focus. Nevermind the centrepiece her mother had painstakingly hunted for the day prior.

"Harry, you told us you've been together since Halloween?" Matilda asked, tearing off a piece of her biscuit. "A lovely story indeed, but I've thought of another question: how long have you fancied our sweet Mione?"

She wanted to groan. "Great Aunt Matilda, I really don't think -"

Harry chuckled, setting his cup back down on the saucer. "Well, it's a little embarrassing really." He pushed some of his food around the plate, and her aunts were both drawn in by his show. "In our first year -" he froze, looking to Hermione.

She sighed. "They already know about Hogwarts." Hermione laughed, patting him on the shoulder. "Out of all the things I could have forgotten to tell you, I suppose that was the largest."

"Do they know about the mountain troll then?" He asked her.

"A _what?"_ Matilda gasped, dropping her fork and leaning forward. "I've never heard of such a thing. Is it as horrific as it sounds?"

"Worse, actually," Harry replied with a grin. "Nearly killed Hermione, and it would have been Ron and I's fault."

Frank muttered under his breath. "Can you imagine receiving a letter, by owl no less, detailing how your child was nearly beaten death by something twelve feet tall?"

"Back to the question at hand, however." Mildred intervened, casting a dark look at her twin for allowing herself to be led astray. "How long have you fancied Hermione?"

Harry cleared his throat. "I was stalling, but it's rather unfair to force me to choose only one." He looked to Hermione, the corners of his lips quirking into a smile as he fiddled with his hair. Taking her hand for an effect that would last, he continued, "I find it's rather a collection of moments, but I've always been too oblivious to recognize what was right in front of me."

Matilda placed a hand over her heart. "That's so sweet."

Mildred, however, wanted more details. "That's either a weak answer because you have no idea, _or_ you're just as shy as she is. An idea I highly doubt, Mr Savior." She winked playfully.

Not one to back down from any challenge, or anything that could be remotely construed as a challenge, Harry bit his lip. "There was a turning moment during the war, and I know it's an ugly topic, so I won't prolong this." He added as her mother paled, and her father's knee bumped against the underside of the table. "Ron and Hermione have always been my closest friends. There was a time where Ron staying was no longer feasible, and he left us. We were alone in a forest, and we were in the middle of a war, and she was there."

Hermione's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest as if the words he said were real. Colour pooling in her cheeks, she could feel the familiar sting of tears at the memory. The Horcruxes, Ron's voice howling against the wind -

"No one else was there, but her. Hermione stuck by my side even when I think she should have gotten the hell out."

"Cheers to that." Mr Granger rumbled.

"Retrospectively, I fancied Hermione long before I realized it, but that was the moment." Harry finished.

Mildred was silent, a slow smirk curving her lips as she raised her hands and clapped. "I daresay I like you, Mr Potter. I should warn you against breaking my great niece's heart. As easy on the eyes as you are, I'd hate to decide you need to go."

Hermione's laugh echoed, and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. "Look what you've done, Harry. You've gone and made me cry."

Across the table, her mum was beaming. "Dear, you should have been with this one all along! Ron is nice, and he's welcome anytime, but already Harry is shaping up to be a much better partner."

"I'll be sure to owl him that. He's sure to laugh." Harry replied easily.

* * *

Her excuse for getting him out of the house was to show him where she had grown up. Not that there was much to show, but her family liked him too much and she longed for moments where they weren't embarrassing her.

Harry walked at her side, the side closest to the road, as they ambled down the sidewalk. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, mirroring hers, and their breath was visible in front of them. "I like Mildred and Matilda."

She laughed under her breath, peeking up at him. "They're a bit mad, aren't they?"

"Maybe so, but they certainly keep things lively."

"Oh," Hermione sucked in a breath, "they're skilled at that. They like you. I expected them to, but I'm just relieved we pulled off this lie of ours."

Harry snorted, stepping over a patch of ice. "I feel bad for the man you bring home after me. He won't be able to compare."

"That's a -" Hermione squealed as she slipped on the ice, grabbing Harry's sleeve and he tumbled down with her. Their foreheads knocked together as she landed hard on the concrete, and with him on top of her. "Aren't you supposed to have quicker reflexes than that?"

He spluttered, bracing his hands on either side of her head. "You took me by surprise."

"Don't snitches always take you by surprise though?" Hermione drawled. "Let me up." Taking his hand as he pulled her to her feet, actually gripping her hips and setting her on a patch that was not ice. "The snow is beautiful." She murmured, making her way toward the shops again.

"Hey, Hermione!" Harry called out, and a snowball hit her right on the nose the moment she turned. He was grinning, already forming another snowball in his hands. "How's that for reflexes?"

She brushed the last bits of snow from her nose, thankful for the warming charms on her clothes, and gloves. "You attacked me from behind, Potter. That's not a good show of reflexes or sportsmanship." She dropped down as the second left his hand, grabbing a handful of snow. The snow scattered throughout her hair as it smacked into her cheek.

His laughter carried throughout the neighbourhood as he jogged backward, putting his hands in the air to protect his face. "Careful now, I wouldn't want you to bust your arse again." He sniggered, hiding behind a tree.

Glancing both ways down the street, Hermione was sure there was no one coming. No one to see her raise her hand, albeit while still nibbling her lip. Not wanting to draw her wand even if it would make the spell even more powerful, she drew her hand back, and then pushed it forward through the air.

"Scared?" Harry called, immediately before he the tree shuddered and loads of snow dumped on top of him. "Hermione!" He yelled, a hand shooting up from the mound of snow as he crawled out of.

Glancing at the snowball still in her left hand, and then back to him as his head broke the surface of the newly formed snowbank, Hermione turned on her heel and sprinted down the sidewalk. Giggling loudly, she didn't make it far before a strong arm slid around her waist. "Don't you dare," she squealed, kicking her legs in an effort to get away from him.

"That was something I like to call cheating." Harry murmured in her ear, wrapping another arm around her as she attempted to wriggle free. "You're going to kick me in the bollocks if you don't quit."

"If you value them, you should -" he tossed her into the snowbank along the sidewalk, a mound that was half her height. Colour rising to her cheeks, she popped out of the snow. Hermione glared at him. "It wasn't funny."

Harry bent down to look at her, a cocky smile gracing his face as he braced his palms against his knees. "You're smiling."

Looking away, she muttered, "I most definitely am not."

Harry snorted. "Give me your hand." Taking her hand, lightly tugging her from the pile of snow, he brushed snow from her coat. "Where's your scarf?" He asked, peeking over her shoulder. "Weren't you wearing it?"

She shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. "I should have, but I wasn't expecting to have a snowball fight."

"Take mine," he told her, unwrapping the crimson wool scarf from his neck. Harry twisted the ends of it around his knuckles, throwing it around her neck, and lightly pulling her forward. "You'll catch a cold."

Her breath caught with how close he was, with the feel of his thumb sliding along her lip after he'd wrapped the scarf around her. "What are you doing?"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss just to the right of her mouth, nearly so close their lips touched. "I saw Mildred spying on us." He whispered into her ear.

Hermione nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear with a nervous laugh. "Of course." She nodded. "There's a tea shop up the way where we could warm up if you like. They serve the perfect hot chocolate at Christmas." Hermione took him by the hand, sliding her fingers through his in a move that was so well practised, one would have believed they had done it a hundred times before.

It was only to convince Great Aunt Mildred who was snooping on them. Only -

When Hermione peeked over her shoulder, her great aunt was nowhere to be seen, nor was there a good hiding spot for her. Even so, Hermione still held his hand, her heart in her throat.

* * *

Harry had told her to grab a spot she liked, leaving her as he went to fetch two drinks.

Grabbing a seat by the large window, the wiry leg of the chair screeching against the tile, Hermione took her seat. She pulled her gloves off, setting them on the edge of the table where they might dry before they left. Her coat was sopping wet, a result from an impromptu snowball fight, and being tossed into the snow like a ragdoll.

"I can't tell if it's the best hot chocolate I've ever had since it scalded my tongue," Harry said, scooting his chair back with the tip of his boot. Falling into his seat, he pushed her cup toward her, steam rising up from the opening. "I had to confund the barista." He said nonchalantly, taking the lid off the styrofoam cup, and blowing on his drink.

Colour drained from her face. "What?"

"Forgot to convert my money into muggle currency." He replied, red tinting the tops of his cheeks. "Don't give me that look."

The corner of her mouth lifted as she laughed. A shiver slid down her spine, the hair of her arms raising as a tremble went through her body. "It's freezing," Hermione muttered, casting a dark look at the window she shouldn't have sat by. It was an even colder spot in the cafe.

He arched an eyebrow. "Come here."

"I beg your pardon?"

Harry stood and dragged his chair around the table, collapsing into it. Though this time he slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't keep you warm?"

Her nose wrinkled as she looked over at him. "Technically you aren't able to do much since we're both soaked to the bone."

He smirked, massaging her shoulder with his free hand. "Sounds like an easy fix. Body heat." Harry teased.

She elbowed him in the ribs. "Are you regretting your decision to come home for Christmas with me yet?"

Snorting, he shook his head as he nearly inhaled his hot chocolate. "I like your family; your father isn't as lively as the rest of them, and I think he's waiting to prevent me from getting into your knickers, but he's easy to get along with."

Hermione nodded. "My mum?"

He smiled. "I can see where you got a lot of your qualities from. Plus she likes to mention how I'm better than any other boyfriend you've had, so she strokes my ego." Harry carefully tilted the cup to his mouth. "I think I like Mildred and Matilda the best though."

Hermione groaned, "I knew you were going to say that."

His nose wrinkling as he laughed, Harry squeezed her shoulder. "They remind me of Fred and George. Maybe it's because I've spent so many years at the Burrow, but this must be the best holiday I've had in years."

A slow smile curved her lips. At least she hadn't brought him all the way out here only for him to have a horrible time. "I'm glad. I feel the same way. Though Mildred and Matilda have always teased me for being single, they mean well. I just couldn't listen to it again this year."

"Makes me wonder how Oliver could have walked away from all of this," Harry said suddenly, fixing a dark look on her. "You never told anyone why you broke up, and he wouldn't either. Not even when I threatened to hex it out of him."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "You did not. Harry Potter, you did _not._ "

He shrugged. "No, but only because Ron pulled me away before I could. What happened, Hermione?"

She stared at her shoes, kicking them together to knock the snow from the sides. "It's nothing, Harry. We weren't compatible."

Harry shook his head, setting his cup on the table and turning to face her directly. Turning her hand over in his, he began "You and Ron weren't compatible. You dated Oliver for a year and a half, and you were about to move in together. So I know this isn't an issue of compatibility," he held a finger up when she opened her mouth, "and I already know it isn't because you wanted different things. So don't lie to me."

Her eyes burned at the familiar sting of tears. "It's nothing worth talking about now. I'm just glad I never brought him home. I was going to, but then we had conflicting schedules and -"

Harry sighed, a sharp sound, as he raked his fingers through his hair. "Hey, look at me." He murmured, tilting her chin up. "It wasn't nothing, and it's okay to be sad about it, but you shouldn't hide it away from the people who care about you. The only reason you wouldn't talk about it is that you know I'll want to find him, or he's made you feel ashamed of something. So which is it?"

Hermione swallowed roughly, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Both, I suppose." She muttered, and he took one of her hands in his. "Oliver broke up with me, not the other way around."

Turning her hand over in his, he murmured, "I thought it was something like that."

"We were going to move in together, but we had a disagreement. While I thought we were doing great, he didn't agree so the slight disagreement we had turned out to be more, and well - I wasn't a good girlfriend."

"Hermione, you can't possibly think that."

She shook her head. "I'm not telling you what I think; I'm telling you what he said to me, and why we called it quits. It's because he thought I was a bad girlfriend. Now that I look back on it, I can see it. I would always cut dinners short to get to the Ministry, or I would cancel last minute, or oh! He mentioned how I was always most lively when I discussed work, and normal people don't talk about creature rights every bloody chance they get."

Harry's eyes narrowed, his freed hand curling into a fist at his side. "He's wrong."

"It may be hurtful to hear, but I don't think he was wrong. Harry, I'm a fantastic department head, but I am not a good partner in life. His observation wasn't wrong - I was just..too much, I suppose is the only way to say it."

He sucked in a sharp breath. "Hermione, let me tell you something, and I want you to listen to me. Don't just discard it as something a friend would say. If you were too involved with work, I would tell you, and you would tell me to sod off because you're on the track to something brilliant. Any man that thinks you are too much for him isn't the one you should be with."

She smiled, though it was only a subtle curve of her lips. "That sounds rather informed coming from you."

"You've never been too much." He repeated, squeezing her hand for no other reason than that he wanted to.

* * *

They'd sat in the cafe for another hour before leaving. It had been his idea to see a film, and it had also been Harry's idea to watch a horror movie instead of the sweet romcom at Christmas.

She'd never regretted listening to him more than she did as she flinched, and curled into the curve of his arm.

"It wasn't that bad." He laughed, his teeth chattering as they made their way down the sidewalk.

The lights were already on at her house, fairy lights painstakingly strung around the trim by her father. The blankets of snow glittered beneath the light. "It was horrific." She mumbled, stepping over a thin patch of ice. "It's easily the worst film I've ever seen."

Harry pressed his hand to the small of her back as she made her way up the stairs of the house. "You're only mad because you jumped."

"Santa Claus is supposed to leave presents, not murder and mayhem, Harry." She grumbled, trying to open the door. Only it was locked. Patting her pockets, and then rifling through her bag, she groaned. "I don't have my key." She knocked on the door. "It's Hermione!"

Then there was giggling from the other side. "Oh, we'll let you in, dears," Matilda said.

"For Merlin's sake," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"But first you'll have to honour tradition," Matilda called out.

"What does that even mean?" Hermione growled, pounding on the door.

Harry caught her elbow, pointing above them. Unmistakably, there was mistletoe hung above them, dangling from the roof as if it were teasing them. "We should have expected something like this." He smirked.

Her heart thudded in her chest, rattling around, and she shook her head. "We don't have to prove anything to them." She replied, hiding her shaking hands behind her back. "Really, you don't have to appease them -"

Harry cupped her cheeks, tilting her head up as he backed her to the wall. The chilly brick met her spine as he dropped his head. By the time his lips actually touched hers, she was certain her heart would burst from her chest, or stop altogether.

His lips were soft against hers, and despite the initial moment of hesitation, Hermione found herself melting into the curve of his body. Sliding her fingers into his hair, she whimpered - a quiet, barely there sound - as his tongue traced the seam of her lips. She wasn't sure how long they would have stayed like that had the door not been flung open.

"Now, _that's_ what I call a kiss." Matilda sang, wrapping them in tinsel. "Oh, don't mind me. This will make a marvellous picture. Mildred, hurry with the camera, would you!"

Hermione giggled, leaning her head forward as one great-aunt staged them with tinsel - Godric help them if she brought out ornaments - and the other shuffled around in the snow for the perfect picture.

"Do you think I overdid it?" Harry asked.

She looked up at him with a bright smile. "You may have." Hermione readily agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

Being around him was different after he'd snogged her as if they were truly dating. Hermione wasn't shy - she wasn't. And if she had noticed the change between them - not quite a rift, it felt more like a positive shift - her family had certainly noticed it.

She was careful to keep locking charms up in her bedroom when they fell asleep at night. In part because having Mildred and Matilda barge into her room would be the swiftest way to upset her, and then in part because she wondered if something might happen again. Try as she might, she was unable to convince herself that she definitely didn't want him to cross the line again.

Meanwhile, over the next two days, her mother flitted around the house, rushing to tidy everything before the rest of their family arrived on Christmas morning. Assuming it was only a matter of time before her mum begged the two of them to clean the two-story home with magic, she did her best to stay out of the way.

Her mornings started the same, waking, grabbing a book that she'd been attempting to finish all week, but never quite got through. Then Harry would stir, likely snore just as well, and then they would be called for breakfast.

Only this morning was different. Merlin forbid they have a sense of normalcy over the holidays.

Hermione had slept it, her arm tucked beneath her pillow, and her leg hitched of Harry's hip. Unsure of how they got there, her eyes flew open at the sudden movement. "Harry?" She murmured, reaching out to lay the back of her hand against his forehead. Drenched in a cold sweat, and writhing as if he was on the receiving end of a _crucio_ , she took extra precautions by casting a silencing charm before setting her wand on the bedside table.

"Harry," she said louder this time, shaking him by the shoulder. "Harry, wake up, you're having a nightmare." Hermione tried to rip him out of the dream, but nothing worked. Hovering over him, she reached across the table on his side to grab the glass of water.

"Hermione - don't take her." He wheezed, and his hand moved on its own accord as if he were trying to find his wand.

Her heart clenched at the way his brows furrowed. "Harry -" she screamed as his eyes shot open, startling her, but then he'd grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. Her back flush with the mattress, the blankets scattered around them, it was all she could do to stare up at him.

His eyes widened as he took her in, her grip on her arms loosening. "Shite, shite, I'm so sorry." He murmured, glancing at his hands as if he'd well and truly hurt her.

Which he hadn't. Hermione propped herself up on her arms, peering up at him. "It's okay. You only surprised me." A moment of silence passed, on that she'd hoped would prompt him to offer what had happened, but he didn't. "Was it the war?"

He shuddered and nodded. "I haven't dreamed of it in a long time."

Hermione tilted her head to the side. "The holidays can make us remember the worst of times as well." She murmured. "What was it?"

"Malfoy Manor." He softly replied.

Her breath caught in her throat and it was all she could do to nod. "You said my name before you woke up. I wondered if that was the case." Her mother's voice drifted up the stairs, calling them down for breakfast. "Are you okay?"

Harry's eyes fell to her exposed chest, not that her breasts were on display, but the tip of the scar she'd gotten from Dolohov could be seen. In the slight tumble that had landed her on her back, her shirt had been tugged down, revealing the lacy middle of her bra, and the dark scar running up her chest. Almost as if he wasn't in control, Harry's fingers reached out, tracing the waxy skin with his index finger. "You didn't think we should go. You told me that, and we went anyway." Harry murmured softly.

Too stunned to say anything, and too surprised by the look on his face, and the way he traced the scar with utmost care, she nodded. "I know." The memories of that day were still all too fresh in her mind: the visions of Sirius Black being tortured that had prompted the D.A into a hasty rescue, the skewed lines of communication that made them believe Sirius truly had been captured when Kreacher told them he wasn't in Grimmauld Place. Coming face to face with Death Eaters, fighting them even, Hermione still had problems coming to terms with the events of the battle, and each one that followed. "It's not your fault."

"You should have never been there; none of us should have been there. What good came from it?" He murmured. Harry slid off of her, not meeting her eye.

Pulling her shirt back into place, Hermione heard footsteps on the creaking stairs. "The Wizarding World had to believe he was back, Harry. They couldn't call you a liar anymore. It changed _everything."_ Hermione cupped his cheek. "I don't think you should blame yourself for what happened in the Department of Mysteries, but I know you do."

"Sirius would have never been there -"

There was a light rapping at the door, her mother's voice following it. "Hermione? Harry? Breakfast is ready if you'd like to come down."

Harry was already reaching for his shirt when she placed her hand on his forearm, shaking her head. Plucking her wand from the nightstand, Hermione murmured a soft " _Finite._ Mum, Harry isn't feeling well at the moment. We'll be down in a bit if that's alright?"

She could imagine her mother pausing, her brows rising before she gave a nod no one could see. "Of course, let me know if there's anything you need."

"Do you think your mum believes 'Harry isn't feeling well' is code for a morning shag?" Harry asked, his eyes filled with mirth, and the somberness ebbing away.

She snorted. "You're probably right."

* * *

All was quiet in the Granger residence. Or perhaps not completely quiet as there was a mixer whirring to life in the kitchen, at least three timers dinging in intervals signalling it's time to pull various pies from the ovens, and then there was her father, sitting in the den in front of a television.

Hermione sat at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Harry to exit the bathroom so they could join her family in the den as well. Her mother was the first to mention that they should get a headstart on their yuletide traditions since they wouldn't have time once the rest of their family arrived. Each year they liked to watch holiday movies - incredibly cheesy ones that typically had almost the same plot at that - and her father tended to slip something _extra_ into the eggnog when they did so.

Mildred and Matilda had taken her mum's car, deciding to spend a night out as sisters. Hermione was fairly certain that meant the twins would stumble into the house at half-past two, utterly pissed.

There was an echoing sound of the double ovens shutting, and then her mother turning on the faucet. "Hermione, are you ready to settle in?" Jean called out, coming into view as she untied her apron from behind.

Hermione nodded. "Nearly. If Harry would get his arse out of the bathroom already." Hermione whined pointedly, resting her forearms on her knees. Her friend still seemed a bit out of sorts and had ever since four hours earlier when he'd risen from his nightmare. "Speak of the devil." Hermione laughed at the bathroom door opened, and he stepped out. "They're ready for us."

Harry followed her as she walked into the den, her toes digging into the plush, grey carpet. Her pyjamas soft against her legs, Hermione crawled into her spot at the edge of the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. She patted the spot beside her. "Have a seat, we'll be here for a while."

Her parents sat on the leather loveseat adjacent to them, her mother already digging into the bowl of popcorn. "Oh, this is my favourite!" Her mum exclaimed, leaning over to peck her father on the cheek.

Hermione fake gagged next to Harry, a mischievous grin curving her lips as she did so. "As gross as they are -"

"Hermione Jean, did you just call me gross?" Her mother scolded, twisting and settling into her husband's arm. "You'll find that I said nothing of how you chose to stay in your room this morning."

"Harry didn't feel well." Hermione rolled her eyes, reaching for the glass of eggnog that was already left for her on the coffee table. Handing Harry his glass, she cast a glare toward her mother. "And if you would have let me finish, you would have heard me say how I also think you're an example of the love I want when I'm older."

Her mum winked at her and nodded to Harry. "Seems to me you're on the right track, darling." Hermione flushed, accidentally spilling her drink on herself. "Now both of you pay attention."

Hermione relaxed into the cushions, sipping eggnog while her hand found Harry's in the middle. There was never much to these movies, but they did make a certain feeling of resentment bubble up in her heart. Maybe it was the female business executive who was addicted to work that struck too close to home for her or the way she claimed that she didn't need to find love. Rather she wanted to find purpose, to leave a mark on the world.

Harry hummed beside her, squeezing her hand. "I know what you're thinking." He whispered as the brunette on screen walked away from an awkward encounter with her former boyfriend. A boyfriend who thought she worked too much, Hermione might add. "And you're still wrong."

She snorted as quietly as she could, slapping her hand over her nose to muffle the sound. "I'm not wrong; Oliver wasn't wrong, and yes I do work too much. I might as well pay the Ministry instead of the rent for my flat, Harry."

"That's nonsense. You could always move in with me." He replied, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. "I could kill Wood for making you doubt yourself." Harry let go of her hand, instead draping an arm around her shoulders. "I wouldn't want you to ever change." He murmured in her ear, and then he leaned into the couch once more.

It was a start, Hermione told herself as she shifted her weight to lean into him. The curve of his body and the hand settled over her shoulder were warm. She was silent for the duration of the movie, but as the ending came through, Hermione was unable to keep still. Taking his hand as he had with hers, she traced the scars he had from Umbridge. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as the familiar white scar stood out to her.

"Wasn't that a great movie, Hermione?" Her mum asked, standing from the sofa to stretch before popping in the next film. "Well," she started with a wide grin plastered on her face, and her hands on her hips, "aren't the two of you a cosy picture?"

Hermione scrambled away from him, her constant blush appearing on her face, but his arm hooked around her waist. "Have you always been so bloody shy?" Harry chuckled, tucking her back into place. "Do you not like this?" In low tones, he asked her, and she was sure the flash of hurt was not imagined.

Her heart clenching, she shook her head. "It's not that, but," she glanced over to make sure her parents weren't listening. Rather, both her mother and father were crouched in front of the television. "You don't have to cuddle me on the couch. They already believe you're my boyfriend, so -"

Harry leaned forward - only after casting a dark look to the side to see that they hadn't returned to the couch - and cupped the nape of her neck. His eyes were bright behind the wire rims of his glasses, but his jaw was clenched. "Hermione," he murmured.

"Yes?" Hermione squeaked, a miniscule sound one might have mistaken for a mouse.

"If I knew your father wouldn't chuck me out of your second story window, I would snog you right now. Unfortunately, he would, so this will have to do: I am not doing this for some charade, and I haven't been since we were under the mistletoe."

She nodded, raising her shaky hand to brush her fingertips against the scruff on his jawline. "Then that would mean -"

"Yes." He rasped in hushed undertones. "The next movie is starting." He told her, his hand falling away from her neck. "We'll talk about it later," Harry smirked.

Hermione hissed, "How am I supposed to focus on a blasted movie now?" The booze sitting on the kitchen island - the booze her father spiked the eggnog with - was looking more and more appealing.

* * *

It was worth mentioning that she did _not_ focus on the movie - an animated classic of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer - nor did she focus on the next three. Every nerve seemed to stir to life each time she shifted against Harry. He liked to trace the length of her fingers or to trail his fingers up her arm just because it made her squirm.

Despite having the last few hours to mull his words over, Hermione still wanted to drag him from the room so he could fully explain. Trapped in a room with her parents after he'd confessed to wanting to kiss her all over again - well, it was its own kind of torture.

The telephone in the kitchen rang partway through the climax, a high tone that her mother always said would wake her from sleeping. Her mother sighed, springing to her feet and making her way into the kitchen. "Hello?"

Hermione twisted in her spot, her hand mistakenly brushing Harry's groin as she did so. "I'm sorry." She whispered, mortified at the way his eyes fluttered shut.

"I'll bet you are, witch." He replied cheekily, casting a look across the room before swatting her bum lightly.

She gasped, glaring back at him as her parents were none the wiser. "Harry!"

He shrugged, smirking and did it once more as she leaned over the armrest of the sofa. Wiggling her pert, little arse just to irritate him, she was saved from another swat as her father rolled on his side to face the kitchen. "What's going on?" Hermione asked, only to have her mother hold her finger in the air.

Heaving a sigh, Jean Granger smashed the phone back into the cradle and frowned. "Frank, grab your coat. We have to go pick up Mildred and Matilda. They're at a pub of all places," she snapped, "a bloody _pub_ and they've lost the car."

Hermione looked back with wide eyes to see Harry muffling his laugh. "They..lost it?" Hermione tentatively asked. _Best to tread carefully,_ she thought. Her mother didn't lose her composure often, but when she did, it was never a pretty sight to behold. "How did they -"

Her mother snatched her wool coat from the rack in the corner. "I don't know. They've either gambled it away, or they've merely forgotten." Jean said, fastening the buttons as quickly as she could manage. "This is your fault, you know." She said pointedly to her husband.

"What?" He grumbled, taking his coat from her hand. "How is this my fault? You told them to take your car!"

As much as she tried to pay attention to the squabble in front of her, it was rather hard when Harry was tracing her spine. Hermione kicked him the best she could, hurting herself more than him in the process.

"They're from _your_ side of the family." Jean volleyed back as if that explained everything. "I'll drive. We'll be back in an hour, kids. Feel free to watch the next movie, though you weren't watching them anyway." Her mother called. The door slammed shut, and then there was her engine turning over.

Harry's hand fell from her spine as she slowly turned, sitting with her back to the armrest. It left her being the farthest from him that she could be without leaving the sofa. "Harry?"

He's silent for a moment, his eyes darkening as they fix on her and the pretty blush spreading across her cheeks. "Would you like to skip to the next movie?" Harry asked her, and for a moment, her heart stops.

Had she imagined it all from the start? Surely not. Not with the way he was so intent on touching her, or the way he delighted in making her squirm if the smirk on his face was anything to go by. "Not really, no," Hermione whispered.

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it. Holding his hand up, he crooked his finger, beckoning her to come to him. And typically, Hermione Granger didn't take well to anyone telling her what to do. Except this was different. For several reasons: one being that this was _Harry_ for Merlin's sake, and also because this was a different version of her best friend altogether.

She slid closer to him, still sitting on her knees, a move that put her eye to eye with him. Hermione tilted her head to the side. "What is this?" She murmured, fidgeting with a string that had come loose from his denims. "What we're doing?"

He chuckled, and a shiver rolled down the notches of her spine. "I believe it's called flirting, Hermione." Harry teased, his eyes bright as he looked at her. His hand kept twitching as if he were about to reach out and cup the back of her neck.

She found herself wishing that he would, and then she could discover what it was like. Hermione had heard the rumours of course, but those had followed the war. You see, the Boy Who Lived simply didn't have time to be snogging witches in drafty corridors while he was busy avoiding instant death by Dark Lord. The rumours that followed Harry around weren't something she had ever given any real thought to, but his 'reputation' had a way of preceding him.

Hermione realized she'd been silent for longer than she ought to have when Harry pulled away from her. His eyes fell away from her and a blush dusted his cheeks. _He thinks he's being rejected._ She could have laughed, but she just grabbed him by his jumper to stop him. "Wait, I was - I was lost in thought. Forgive me, please?"

It was as easy as snapping her fingers, the way he turned back to her, and suddenly oxygen was easier to come by. "What were you thinking of, Hermione? I might be heartbroken if you tell me you were thinking of _Hogwarts: A History._ "

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't be daft. Even I wouldn't be thinking of a book when I have a handsome wizard in front of me. It doesn't matter what I was thinking of, but what I mean to say is why are we flirting? What's changed?"

He smiled ear to ear, reaching out to twist one of her unruly curls around his index finger. "You're lovely, did you know that?"

Her eyes widened. "Pardon?"

"And you say I'm daft." He laughed. "What were you thinking of?"

Crimson painted her cheeks. "Nothing that pertains to this."

Harry leaned toward her, his nose bumping against hers softly. "Did you know that you're an awful liar?"

"I am not!" She argued, pushing him backward. "You know that I'm not." It hung in the air for a moment, the implications of it - of breaking into the vault, her night in Malfoy Manor.

Harry's eyes flashed, and he gave a sharp nod, more of a jerk of his head really. "You're right; you're a good liar, but you know what?" He leaned in closer to her, his lips skimming her jawline until his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. "I'm a trained auror, and your best friend rolled into one. Not only do I know all of your little quirks, but they also teach us how to spot lies, Hermione. Working in the Ministry, I'd think you would know that."

She swallowed, frozen in place. "How did you know I was lying then?"

He smirked. "I can't tell you; then you'd be aware of it." Harry paused, his fingertips sliding up her arm as the skin below it broke into gooseflesh. "Although.." dragging his finger up her arm, across her shoulder only to twine them in her hair, "I could make an exception if you tell me what you were thinking of..?"

Hermione stayed still, her eyes drifting shut as his touch slowly moved across exposed skin. There was a familiar warmth pooling in her belly, and she knew that her knickers were wet, her folds slick. He hadn't even taken her clothes off, not one single article of clothing was tossed into the floor, but this was intimate in a way she'd never experienced before. "It's silly." She mumbled.

"If I promise not to laugh?" Harry murmured, and his fingers knotted in her hair, tilting her head back. She thought for a moment that he was going to kiss her neck, and she was certain she would be done for.

Hermione couldn't decide if she was disappointed that he didn't. "It's impolite to tease." She gasped, gripping his forearm as she peered up at him.

Harry replied equally as soft, "It's impolite to lie."

"I was.." Hermione trailed off, wondering absently if he would forget all about this if she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. "I was pondering whether the rumours were true about you. Your reputation precedes you." She looked at her hands, not willing to make eye contact when he inevitably sniggered.

He only tipped her head up by sliding his knuckle beneath her chin. "Would you explain that train of thought?" At the indignant huff, she let out he rushed to say, "I'm not looking for you to stroke my ego,"

"Oh?" Hermione arched an eyebrow. "You'd rather me stroke something else then?"

He snorted. "Well, I wouldn't complain, but I meant I didn't understand."

Hermione sighed. "You haven't heard them?" There was silence, and then he shook his head. Dumbly, she said, "Oh." Pausing as she decided what to say, she continued with, "Well, they like to say that you are an exceptional snogger, as well as a lover."

Harry chuckled. "Imagining my prowess, Hermione?"

She flushed. "Shut up!" Hermione smacked his chest, staring as he caught her hand and he gently splayed her fingers across his chest. The rough planes of his chest pressed against her fingers, she couldn't think much of anything. "What tipped you off that I was lying?"

As if he'd forgotten his end of the bargain, his eyes widened. "Your nose crinkles whenever you lie to Ron, or I." Harry told her. "You've done it since our first year."

"Oh." Then they were frozen like that, her hand against his chest when his long fingers circled her wrist, their knees barely brushing together. She was struck once more by how innocent they must look together, but she was certain what they were spiralling toward was anything but.

Harry bit his lip before rasping, "Would you like to find out if the rumours are true?"

Her reply was a barely there, breathless, "please?"

He had her in his lap before she could say much of anything, but a squeal tumbled from her mouth. Straddling his waist, rolling her hips for good measure - he _had_ teased her after all - Hermione held his face in his hands as she leaned down.

Harry reached for her, one hand sliding down her back, and the other fisting her curls in his group. The light tugging made her whimper against him, just as his tongue traced the seam of her lips. "You taste divine." He groaned, and then there was nothing.

For someone who was always thinking, there was nothing beyond the feel of his mouth slanted against hers, his lips moving so slowly at first as he pressed her harder to the curve of him. Sure, later she would turn the last few days over in her head, trying to pinpoint how their relationship had taken such a hard turn, but for now -

For now, she was willing to let the pieces fall where they may, tangling her fingers in soft black hair. "Harry," she bit her lip to keep quiet, the moan at the tip of her tongue threatening to be incredibly loud in the small space.

He wouldn't have it. Nipping her bottom lip, his hand slid up her back, nails scraping against the skin through the flimsy material. "Let me hear you,"

She mumbled an incoherent, broken sentence against his lips. "Too loud," she gasped.

"You're too loud?" He guessed, tugging her hair so she would pull back. His lips were swollen, his hair dishevelled as his eyes raked over her. "I don't give a fuck, Hermione. Why wouldn't I want to hear those sweet, little sounds?"

Her eyes drifted shut as he leaned forward, pressing small kisses to the base of her throat. "I wouldn't want it to be irritating." She admitted, knowing full well that he was going to disagree.

Not to her surprise, Harry Potter took it as a challenge, his sliding experimentally between their bodies. As she moved her hips against him, nodding, two fingers pressed against her clit through her pyjama bottoms. "Harry!" She moaned, her head falling back. "Merlin -"

"Can I?" He asked gently, flicking the buttons of her top to grab her attention.

"Yes, but don't stop," she shuddered against his touch, "touching me like that."

Harry smirked, "Never."

Hermione unbuttoned her top, leaving it buttoned at the bottom lest her family tumble in the door any moment. It should have worried her more than it did. Instead, she was focused on the feel of him and the feel of his cock stiffening in his trousers beneath her bum.

Harry set his glasses on the table to the right of them, laying open-mouthed kisses along her clavicle. "Fucking Merlin," he growled, hooking his finger between the cups and tugging it down. With minor trouble, her breasts spilt from her bra, and she felt like covering herself. His tongue roaming over the supple flesh seemed to change her mind, and then there was the matter of his fingers.

They danced along the edge of her waistband, and she was just about to snap at him to hurry up when he slid his hand into her bottoms. Unceremoniously, he cupped the mound, his middle finger sliding against the sensitive nub. "I want you," he groaned, one finger pumping into her as he captured her nipple between his teeth.

Lightly nipping it, sucking the stiffened peak had her writhing in his lap. "Oh, gods," she gasped, digging her hands into her hair, her nails scraping her scalp. "There!" Hermione shrieked, her eyes fluttering shut as a second finger thrust into her. "Fuck, Harry.."

"Come for me, Hermione." He growled, his free arm bracing against the middle of her back.

"I can't," she whimpered, though she was certain he was about to give her an orgasm that was far more intense than any other she'd ever had.

"You can," he murmured against her breasts, tongue sliding against her nipple. "I wondered if you would be like this, you know that? So pretty in my lap, while you moan for me."

Temporarily, that tidbit was all she could focus on. "You imagined this?" Hermione asked breathlessly as she rolled her hips. "But when?"

He shrugged, "You might laugh at me if I told you."

Hermione shook her head, sliding her palms up his chest as she pondered ripping it over his head. "I would never - _fuck!"_

"Gonna come over my fingers, sweetheart?" Harry smirked.

Eyes widening, she managed a nod. The term of endearment had always grated her nerves; so patronizing coming from the upper-level Ministry employees. It sounded better than it should have coming from Harry.

She nearly came undone when his hand ceased to move against her, and his eyes were alight with mischief. "Harry?"

"Move against me, Hermione," he whispered, pinching her nipple. "You were doing it just a moment ago. Show me how you'll fuck yourself with my hand."

 _His fucking words. Since when did Harry talk like this?_ Absently, she knew it wasn't something she would have known until now, but no wonder witches flocked to him. "I -" she broke off, doing exactly what he had said.

They heard the sound of car doors slamming at the same time, and she rushed to button her shirt. Her parents were moments from walking into finding them in a precarious situation and -

Harry grabbed his wand, tracing the movement for a disillusionment charm, followed by a confundus charm. He slammed his wand down on the table so roughly she thought it would crack beneath the force.

"Harry!" She hissed, moving to crawl out of his lap.

He caught her by the wrist. "They don't know; please let me." He pleaded with her. Though his hands didn't stray.

She nibbled her lips, looking back to where her parents would have been walking in. "They're confunded against the house?"

Harry nodded, "I promise they won't know."

"But we could finish this later.."

Harry begged, his voice raspy, "I need to feel how your pretty cunt clenches around me when you come."

She'd grabbed him, kissing him roughly as she let him part her thighs on the couch. "What are you - oh, my god." Hermione moaned quietly, clapping her hands over her mouth.

Harry slid down the curve of her body, his fingers splaying across his belly as he kneeled between her thighs. "You have to be quiet." He chuckled, two fingers thrusting into her and he lowered his mouth to her.

His tongue traced her clit tentatively at first, nearly soft enough to make her beg. It was a flurry of him fucking her with his fingers, with his tongue - surely she'd picked up on such filthy words from the man between her legs - and her shaking below him. Harry slid her legs over his shoulder.

Hermione tilted her head to the side, screaming into the cushions.

In reality, she knew it had only lasted a minute perhaps, but she was in a state of disbelief as he pulled away from her. Not to mention the thought that she wondered what it would be like if he truly teased her.

Hermione pulled her bottoms back into place, standing from the couch, and smoothing her hair down. "Do I look like what we were just doing?" Undoubtedly, this wasn't the most irresponsible thing she'd done in her short life thus far, but having someone go down on her while her family was trapped outside ranked higher than most.

"You look thoroughly shagged." He laughed. "You look fine." Harry followed her into the kitchen.

Stretching up to take a glass from the cupboard, she almost missed the way he sucked two fingers clean. "Harry?"

He leaned against the counter, looking down at her. "Already regret it?" Harry asked somberly.

"What?" Hermione replied, her voice rising. "Of course not, you git. Rather..I was wondering you might like to explore whatever _that_ was tonight when we go upstairs?"

"You have no idea." He breathed.

The door burst open, both Mildred and Matilda walking in before her parents. "What have the two of you been up to?" Mildred asked, tossing her handbag onto the table while shaking a finger at them. "Santa Claus knows if you've been naughty or nice."

Harry pinched her bum. "She fell asleep during the movie." He answered smoothly. Just woke up when she heard the car pull in.

"You lost the car?" Hermione asked. "How on earth did you manage that?"

Mildred huffed, turning to her sister. "Well," she stressed, "if you must know, my dear sister left me at the door of the pub while she found parking. Matilda insisted she could still handle her booze as we did as young birds, but that was determined to be a lie."

Her Great Aunt Matilda did look a bit queasy. "Tequila wasn't a fine choice." She admitted. Behind her, her father settled into a kitchen chair while her mother sighed. "I didn't lose the car either. It was in the same place I left it."

"They're both leaving out the best part of the night," Mr Granger snorted. "Go on, tell them what the two of you did." Yet the fell silent, and Hermione was certain it was the first time she'd ever seen them blush. "Alright, I'll do the honours. Your lovely, funny great aunts thought it would be a good use of their time to hustle some bikers out of their money."

Hermione snorted, and Harry erupted into laughter. "That's amazing," Harry said between laughs. "How much did you win then?'

Mildred smiled, picking up her purse and dumping it onto the table. "Only six hundred pounds." She said innocently.

Harry whistled.


	4. Chapter 4

An hour later, they escaped her family and the tales of the shenanigans Mildred and Matilda had once gotten into as children. While Harry laughed the entire time, his hand was settled on her thigh below the dining room table, his hand inching up her inner thigh. She could only nibble her lip to keep from exposing the two of them.

She had already ruined her knickers from the heated snogging session turned to more on the couch, but anticipation thrummed in her stomach as she pondered what could possibly come next.

"They'll be turning in soon," Hermione said quietly as she shut the door behind her. "I don't think -"

He grinned, placing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I won't touch you until they're fast asleep," Harry reassured her, reaching to the collar of his shirt as he tugged it over his head.

She knew he was fit of course, but given the sudden change in their relationship, her mouth dried as she took him in. Truthfully, it wasn't fair for one man to look like he had been chiselled from marble with the way his abdomen was defined, and the way there was a V leading into his bottoms. Hermione noticed he cast silencing and locking charms, the incantation so soft a mouse couldn't have heard. "Harry," Hermione began, her voice breathier than she ever remembered with Oliver.

"Hermione." He said with a smirk, laying his wand on the bedside table. "You're tense."

She laughed, "I'm still trying to figure out what to say to you. When I invited you home for Christmas I didn't imagine this would happen. Not that I'm complaining."

Harry stepped toward her, hands settling on her shoulders. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her earlobe - smirking when she shivered - and whispered, "I'm going to run a bath for you."

She blinked. "What?" Hermione asked dumbly, her brows knitting together. She'd been so certain that he was going to toss her on the bed and...

He chuckled, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "It's a shame I rarely see you confused, you're adorable when you are."

"I - what?"

"I'm still Harry, and you're still Hermione."

"Yes, I would assume basic biology hasn't changed." Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes. Down the corridor, the door to her parents' bedroom swung shut.

Harry smirked. "Oh, I'm positive our basic biology hasn't changed given with what happened on the couch."

Her cheeks heated up as she stared at her toes. "Sod off." There was no malice in the words, only a playful tone as she swatted at him. "I'm not saying anything I want to say."

"That sounds like a personal problem," Harry replied cheekily. "About that bath, I just believe you deserve it. When is the last time you let someone take care of you?"

Hermione fell silent. Looking over her shoulder once more to be absolutely positive it was locked, she turned back to him. "You can run a bath for me another time, Harry. That's not what I want to do at the moment." She slid her arms around his neck, moulding herself to the curve of him. "I'd like to ask you what the hell is going on."

"We're enjoying each other." He murmured, running his knuckle under her eye. "I am particularly enjoying you quite a bit."

She swallowed, drumming up the courage to ask a question she could possibly not like the answer to. "You must know that I have questions."

He laughed, "I know that. I'll tell you anything you want." Harry pulled her to the bed, sitting against the headboard, and patting the empty space next to him. "Sit with me?"

As if she would have said no. Hermione crawled in beside him, clasping her hands in her lap. "Is this just a sudden want for a warm body at Christmas?" Hermione asked, and he shouldn't have been surprised at how forward she was."

"It's not." He snaked an arm around her, fingers fiddling with her sleeve and trailing along the bare patch of skin. "I wanted you, want you still."

She sucked in a breath. "Not to dig for compliments, but why? We've never - you've never seen me like this, Harry."

It would have been lovely if he, perhaps, said how he'd always seen her as desirable, but they were too ill-fitted at the time. Only it would have been a ridiculous notion, and she didn't appreciate liars. "I haven't always seen you romantically, no." Harry agreed. "I have to say the last fifteen years of my life have been a bloody waste of time in that regard. You're lovely."

Her head snapped up. "Pardon?"

He was grinning ear to ear."So fucking brilliant, and stunning, it's a wonder Wood ever let you go. Good riddance in my opinion or else you would have never brought me home with you."

Hermione cocked her head to the side, arching one brow. "I don't think I'm following." No, at the moment she was still thinking of how he'd called her lovely.

"Hermione Granger, I think I fancy you." Harry murmured, and there was a poignant silence that hung in the air.

Once again, she'd forgotten to reply. "Harry?" She whispered, unconsciously leaning forward. "Isn't that something you should know? You don't want to lead a girl on." Hermione smirked, cupping his face.

The second time he kissed her, Harry didn't start slow. It was a moment before she was below him, wriggling as she hooked a leg around his hip, and she let him hold her hands over her head. He bit her bottom lip, pulling it slightly just to see her eyes widen and then flutter shut.

His fingers hovered above the top button on her top. "May I?" Harry asked, and at the nod, he didn't bother to undo each baby blue button. Tearing it right off her instead, she squealed. "I'll buy you a new one." He deadpanned, kissing down her neck as she tilted her head back.

As his fingers rubbed her clit through two layers, she moaned his name, pulling on his hair as his mouth dropped to her breasts.

Harry took his time, and she wasn't sure if he was only teasing her as his tongue traced her scar from Dolohov. "Harry!" Hermione moaned, arching her back and his palm slid to the middle. "What are you doing?"

"We shouldn't have been there, remember? It was my idea to go, and you were nearly killed. So many of you were." He murmured, pressing his lips to each inch of it. "You shouldn't have so many scars because of me," Harry whispered, looking up to her as his tongue slowly lapped against the scar.

She whimpered, but she didn't voice how it was never his fault. She would have done it all over again, but there was a tenderness in his movements that made her shudder. "I don't blame you," Hermione whispered.

He nodded, kissing down her stomach and pressed his lips to each mark which marred her flesh. She knew that some were from running through a forest, a branch piercing the soft skin of her belly and leaving a miniscule mark. "I know that." Harry groaned, cupping her through her bottoms. "You wouldn't have left even if I begged you." He kissed down her arm carefully, and her eyes welled with tears.

"You didn't do this to me." She gasped. There was something about watching him, about keeping her eyes open to watch him trace the letters with his tongue. "I would do everything the same."

"So fucking loyal, and it nearly cost you your life." He growled, rising to kiss her roughly. His tongue traced the seam of her lips before sliding against her own.

Hermione gripped his forearms as he hovered over her. "I would have _never_ left you."

There was something to be said there, but she didn't blame Ron any longer. She doubted Harry did either. His eyes flickered, and he slid his hand into her knickers, groaning as his fingers slid against her slick folds. "I wanted you in the tent. I wanted you then." He gasped.

Hermione was lost after that.

* * *

When she woke it was to the sound of running water from across the corridor, and to Harry who was shaking her. "Wake up, we have a long day." He grinned. Far from the intensity he'd shared with her last night, her best friend looked boyish.

She replied sleepily, "What?"

He laughed, and the smell of bacon wafted up the stairs. "I've run a bath."

Hermione blinked. "You were really serious about that bath, weren't you? Is this a ploy to see me naked and wet?"

He snorted. "No, I'm able to accomplish that by myself thank you. Have you never been pampered?"

Well...no. Her blush crept down her neck when he said it like _that_. "I suppose not, no. Why do we have a long day?" She asked, partly desperate to get away from that conversation, and partly because she had no clue what he was on about.

"It's a surprise. I'll meet you downstairs." Harry told her, a gleeful glint in his eyes before he left her.

* * *

He'd planned a bloody date, and judging by the grin on his face, it would be unlike any other she'd had before. Harry asked if she would drive the rental they'd brought so they be tempted to have another snowball fight in the middle of the neighbourhood. A wise decision given it might escalate into something needing a disillusionment charm this time. Now that was a thought that she shouldn't have lingered on.

Still, her cheeks heated up with the promise of what was to come after the few heated moments that spun out control. She ought to have slowed them down; after all, it was far too soon for them sleep together - which they _hadn't_ , due to Harry catching her lingering hand - but wasn't it too soon for them to do everything else.

It should have been a sign to show her how easy it was for their relationship to shift. Rather she gripped the steering wheel tightly as she wondered what would change when they returned home. His words of fancying her echoed between her ears as she attempted to be rational. Harry would never say that if this was just -

"I can hear your thoughts from here," Harry said, and she glanced over to see a smile curving his lips. "You've missed our turn twice, you know. I've been calling out to you."

Hermione flushed, finally noticing how harshly she'd been gripping the wheel when she let go. "You can hear them? What are they saying?"

He snorted. "You're worried about what this means for our friendship, but I don't have to use legilimency to know that, Mione."

The nickname she'd previously loathed sounded better when it came from him. "Did you expect any different? This is all so sudden, and -"

Harry shook his head. "I'm happy to take the time to prove it to you." He said smoothly, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. "This isn't what I expected either, but I would be a fool to not try and woo you."

"Woo?" She giggled, coming to a stop in traffic. "Full disclosure: it seems I'm not trusting when it comes to romance from the start."

He nodded, leaning his arm on the centre console. "I like challenges."

She glared at him with no real malice. "I am not a prize to be won and shown off, Harry Potter."

"What about a woman whom I want to cherish?"

Her mouth dried. _Well_ , from their playful banter, she certainly hadn't expected _that._ Hermione cleared her throat, replying, "That seems feasible." Though her voice was quiet, borderline squeaking, Harry didn't laugh.

"If I weren't so sure you'd crash into someone, I'd kiss you right now." Harry drawled, leaning back in the seat.

Her response surprised them both, but her the most. "I could pull over," Hermione replied without a moment of hesitation.

So she did.

* * *

She had been ice skating before, but only the once, and it was enough for her to begrudgingly admit she was no good at it. Much like flying - only at least her feet could stay on the ground - Hermione didn't have the gene that enabled her to pick up on just anything.

Unlike Harry, who had laced his skates and slid onto the ice with some degree of finesse all in the same thirty seconds. Eager to tease her, he took two laps around the rink while she made her own measly trek along the wall. Hermione gripped it tightly, catching herself when her legs slid out from under her. If there was ever a time for him to regret bringing her there, it would have been then.

Harry stopped beside her, skating backwards. "Hermione, come on." He held out his hand, fingers brushing against her sleeve. "I won't let you fall." He paused, then continuing with, "well, if you do fall, I'll be there to break your fall."

"That's reassuring." She deadpanned, still not pulling her hand from the wall.

"Isn't it?"

She shook her head, "Not particularly, no." Her eyes wandered toward the couples zipping around the ice, their laughter filling the space. "I can't do that," Hermione muttered, motioning her hand toward them.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not asking you to. Don't worry about what everyone else can do; they're no better than you."

"I wasn't saying -"

"You _were._ Oliver has given you insecurities and you don't realize it at all. Listen," he murmured, sliding close to her and gripping her hips through her jumper. "You can't skate, don't give me that look. It's not an insult. Maybe you can't skate, but you can cast spells that no one else can, you can solve problems that no one else can, and you're the smartest woman I know."

"There is so much more than books and cleverness, Harry."

"You said that to me once, you know." He smiled.

It was so long ago, and she shouldn't have been so surprised he remembered it when he was her best friend, but, "You remember that?"

"I remember everything." Harry murmured. He reached out to twist a piece of her hair around his finger, something he'd done the night before. "I might not act like it, but I'm certain I've never forgotten anything about you."

Hermione's eyes widened as she tilted her head up, torn between hoping he would kiss her, or that he would elaborate on what he'd said. "There's not much to remember," she settled with. "I'm rather boring."

"You're not." He argued. "And I don't think you really believe that either," Harry said, cupping her face. As she leaned into his touch, he continued, "I'm sorry I didn't notice how much Oliver affected you."

"I don't want to talk about him. Oliver doesn't matter." Hermione bit out, not wanting to waste a single moment on a man who had left her, and the more Harry spoke, the more she began to believe it was never her fault at all. "I never knew you were so sweet."

He snorted. "Thanks."

"I meant -"

Harry leaned forward, thumbs brushing her cheekbones as he softly pressed his lips to hers. "I know what you meant." He murmured against her lips.

* * *

He'd led her around the rink, her hand tucked into his as he chuckled each time she fell. Hermione wasn't sure it had ever felt quite like this. Of course, she'd felt butterflies before, the warming of her cheeks, and the way her stomach tied itself into knots each time he looked to her.

Dinner with her family was never a quiet event, and the old ladies at the table were eager for details of her day. "Oh, come on, Hermione." Matilda pleaded. "We haven't had a bloke since our husbands kicked the bucket."

Water shot out of Harry's nose as he laughed. "Merlin." He coughed as Hermione hit him on the back.

Having already heard this before, Hermione's mask of indifference didn't slip. "It's none of your business," Hermione muttered, pushing her food around her plate with her fork. "We had a nice day."

Mildred arched an eyebrow. "I'll bet you did." She leered, pointing a finger when her great-niece blushed. "Hermione Jean, did you do something indecent in public today?"

Her father coughed. "Mildred, is this really something to discuss over the dinner table?"

Mildred's eyes lit up. Cackling, she managed, "I once put my hip out of place from being bent over the table too quickly."

"Oh, gods," Hermione groaned, covering her eyes. "Do you have to make everything so bloody awkward?"

"Of course not, dear," Matilda chimed in, winking at her, "but life would be so bland if we didn't, don't you think?"

Hermione tried to put an end to the nonsense. "Really, we just went ice skating, and took a walk along the river."

"No snogging?" Matilda's nose crinkled.

"It's _none_ of your business and -" Hermione tried again, but she was cut off midsentence.

"There's a lovely spot by the river where you can sneak under the bridge." Mildred mused, tapping her chin as if she were recalling a memory from long ago. _That_ was something no one at the dinner table needed to hear. "Hidden from view, and a good spot on the wall to -"

"Enough!" Jean snapped, standing from the table. "I'm going to the kitchen to get the last bottle of wine, and when I sit back down, I'd like to hear about how my daughter's life is going. Beyond snogging, and ripping her knickers off under a bridge."

Hermione buried her face in her hands. "I didn't rip her knickers off at all." Harry offered weakly. There was a sigh of relief from her father.

"So," Matilda and Mildred chorused, "there _was_ snogging?"

* * *

As it was becoming a habit, and partially because of her own hopes, Hermione cast a silencing charm as they entered her bedroom. "I'm sorry if my family has been overly exhausting this holiday." She said, setting her wand on the table as she shimmied out of her jeans. Laying across the mattress already were her pyjama bottoms, and she stepped into them. "Could you unclasp my bra for me?"

Harry nodded, stepping behind her as she lifted her shirt over her head. "They're a delight, much better than the Dursleys ever were, and I might like them more than the Weasleys." His fingers skimmed her sides, the hair on her arms raised as she shivered. "This holiday has been more than I expected."

Hermione gasped when she felt his lips pressed against the top of her spine, slowly descending. "Harry.." She trailed off as he tugged at the strap across her back. "Are you - oh my gods, are you serious?" Hermione burst into laughter as he unsnapped her bra with his teeth.

"It's one of my many skills." He chuckled as he stood, massaging where her bra had been. "Can I kiss you?"

Her heart clenched. "You don't have to ask," Hermione replied, letting him turn her to face him. "But I think it would be more comfortable in bed." She grinned as she crawled into the bed, hiding beneath the blankets.

There was a thud as he kicked his trainers off, and slid in beside her. "You're cheeky, you know that?" He rasped, sliding one arm under her and laying her across his chest. "I'm not complaining if you'd like to leave your top off, but you should probably cast a locking cham so we aren't interrupted."

She smiled coyly. "Just what would they be interupting?"

Harry's eyes darkened, and he lightly pinched her nipple. "Fuck, you sound so pretty." He groaned as she whimpered. "Cast the fucking spell."

Hermione crawled off of him, snatching her wand from the table. Mid motion, he slapped her arse, dragging a quiet moan from her. "Fuck." She uttered, rushing the spell before his hand came down once more.

"Do you like this?" He asked, his voice ragged as he kneaded the soft flesh of her arse. "Tell me, Hermione."

She nodded, breathless and clutching the sheets. "No one else has ever done that." Hermione murmured, wondering if he would do it again. She certainly wouldn't complain.

There was a loud _slap!_ as his hand came down again. "Come here." He murmured. Harry slid an arm around her back as she straddled his waist.

Sliding her hands up his chest, she clung to him as he kissed her slowly, just as thoroughly as he had the first time on the couch in her parents living room. Hermione bit his lip, drawing it between her teeth as she moved her hips against him. At his low groan, Hermione rolled her hips experimentally. Her eyes widened as she felt his hard length against her inner thigh. "Harry," she moaned, grabbing his hand and putting it on her breast. "I'm not sure if you're waiting for an invitation, but I would really like for you to touch me now."

"Yes, ma'am." He chuckled, tangling his fingers in her curls and pulling her down.

She writhed against him as his lips drop, first pressing to the corner of her mouth, then sliding down her neck, and across her collarbone. Hermione moaned, and then Harry flipped her onto her back. She'd noticed it the first time - that he could be rough. Not that she minded as he captured both her wrists with one hand and pinned them above her head.

"You're fucking gorgeous." He said, his lips skimming her collarbone once more before he traced lazy lines across her breasts with his tongue. Harry bit her nipple lightly, testing if she would like the feel of his teeth nipping her as his hand slid between her legs. "Spread your legs for me." He groaned as she conceded, her hips bucking into his hand.

"Harry." She moaned, her hair falling across the pillows. "Fuck, please," her eyes fluttered shut.

"Please what, love?" He murmured before sucking her nipple.

She moaned his name, digging her fingers into her hair. "Touch me, please."

"I _am_ touching you." Harry replied, rubbing circles over her clit through her knickers, but below her bottoms. "You'll have to be more specific, sweetheart."

Hermione glared at him. "You know what I want," her head fell back as he pinched her clit, eliciting a shriek from her. "I think you just want to hear me beg."

"A wonderful idea, but I won't make you beg. Perhaps another time?" Harry smirked, lowering his mouth to her breast again. "I'm no mind reader - well, technically,"

She swiftly cut him off. "I want you to go down on me." Hermione blurted, colour tinging her cheeks. "Unless you - oh, nevermind!"

He'd already hooked his fingers into her waistband and begun to tug them down her legs. Tossing them into the floor, she peeked at him as he did the same with her knickers. "Don't be embarrassed."

"Easy for you to say." She rolled her eyes.

Harry said nothing as his tongue slid against her clit, his fingers parting her folds as two thrust into her. She'd thought he would tease her with slow movements, barely there touches, and the low sound of his voice. Only he didn't, and she was left panting against the pillows as he pulled her to the edge of the bed.

Now flat against the bed, and her arse teetering on the edge as he slid her legs over her shoulders, she could only be thankful that he reminded her to cast the locking charm. Her body trembled as she covered her mouth in an attempt to muffle the loud moans falling from her lips. "Harry, Harry -" she whimpered as his fingers curled inside of her.

Though she thought he was going to tease her, drag it out until he wrung an orgasm from her, he didn't. "I'm going to come." She hissed, propping herself up on her elbows to find him still watching her. It was the last flick of his tongue that pushed her over the edge, and insurmountable high rushing over her. "Merlin."

He chuckled, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he crawled back onto the bed. Harry laid against the pillows, opening an arm for her to lay against him.

"I usually don't put out on the first date." She muttered.

Harry shook with laughter beside her. "What about the second date?" He grinned, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple.

Her mouth fell open. "We've just had our first thought."

He shrugged. "I don't have any pressing plans tomorrow, do you?"

"Is this really happening?"

"..Did you mean to say that out loud?" He sniggered when she walloped him.

* * *

She thought when he said a second date that they might see a film, perhaps eat an early dinner before returning home. However, looking back at it as she stood in a thrift store, she probably should have realized that Harry Potter was going to go all out.

He woke her at seven in the morning, telling her to wear whatever she wanted. It wouldn't matter, he said, as she wouldn't be wearing it for long anyway. Whereas she'd thought he was just acting like a cocky shite with one foot in the door, she was totally wrong. When he'd told her to park outside of the rundown shop, she was unsure what she was expecting. It looked like a front for an illegal business running out of the back.

Something he snorted at and plucked the keys from her gloved hand before she could yank the gear shift in reverse. Once inside, he told her what they were doing. "We have twenty minutes, and twenty pounds to buy each other an outfit to wear for the day." Harry began, curling the bill in her hand.

She blinked. "Is that what you meant when you said I wouldn't be wearing my clothes for long?" She said it a bit too loud, and the clerk behind the counter laughed.

"Are you disappointed I didn't take you to a secluded stretch of road and shag you, Hermione?" Harry whispered in her ear and nibbling her earlobe. "Alright, go." He rushed past her in the opposite direction toward the women's section.

Slightly baffled, she waved to the clerk. "Excuse me, could you tell me where I can find the men's section?"

* * *

They both looked positively ridiculous.

Harry wore the bright yellow jumper with a grin on his face, and it was paired with purple trainers. She giggled as he spun for her, posing dramatically as a young couple - a better-dressed couple - passed them. "You look mad," Hermione said.

"How rude. I happen to think you look beautiful."

Glancing down at herself, she replied, "I think you're biased." He'd bought her a dress, but it was a bright pink monstrosity and there were flowers over the front. Paired with a thin belt around her waist that was still too large, and an uncomfortable pair of heels, she looked like a colour wheel that had thrown up. "Where are we going?"

"Where would you like to go?"

Hermione stared at her shoes. "There's a nice museum, but I don't think you would find it interesting."

He took her hand, motioning for her to climb in the car. "You went ice skating for me, you can choose this one." The corner of his lip quirked up as she held her dress up as she climbed into the car. "You're right, we do look barking mad."

Even so, it turned out to be her favourite date she'd even been on, and the lines of their friendship were quickly blurring.


	5. Chapter 5

There were some things that her great aunts were particularly skilled at, like distracting Harry while she snuck out of the house. Following their second date, and only after they had to explain why they were dressed in second-hand clothing, Hermione roped her family into distracting Harry.

She was only gone an hour as she browsed shops for a present for him. Muggle shops weren't terribly helpful, so once she came upon a secluded place, she glanced both ways before apparating directly into Diagon Ally. The Yule season was in full swing around her as she bundled her coat closer - having changed into her regular attire before leaving - and made her way into the Quidditch shop.

Teeming with people, she elbowed her way through, squeezing through the gap in the line. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a familiar head of hair, and freezing in place was the last thing she should have done.

He called out her name as she turned, and she hurried on, hopeful Oliver would assume she hadn't heard him and move on with his day. "Hermione!" He yelled again, and she heard him say goodbye to one of their former classmates, and then there was the heavy footfalls against the wooden floors. "Hermione," he said again, breathlessly this time as he caught her by the elbow.

Feigning shock rather than admitting she had no desire to speak to him at all, Hermione smiled. "Hello, Oliver." She greeted, and she was certain the smile on her face was twisted in a pained grimace. "How is your holiday?"

His face fell as she shrugged his hand off of her. "Hermione, come on. You've always called me Oli."

Her brows drew together. "What?"

"You're standoffish." He replied though he looked like he immediately regretted it. "That was rude."

She snorted. "How nice of you to notice." Hermione turned toward the shelf before her. Stocked from top to bottom with gloves, she wasn't sure what in the world she would purchase. Though.. "Oliver?" She asked, knowing full well that he hadn't left her yet. She might as well make some use of him.

"Yeah?" He angled himself closer to her as someone moved past them. "Shopping for Ron?" He guessed, a smile toying at the edge of his lips.

"Actually, no. I'm seeing someone. It's our first Christmas together," that might have been _mostly_ a lie considering she'd seen Harry every year since she was eleven, but it was worth it to see the smirk on Oliver's face slip. "I was wondering if you could give me an opinion on a quidditch related gift?"

His mouth fell open. "You're seeing someone?"

"What of it?" She replied cheekily. "I heard you were seeing Katie Bell now. Congratulations." There was not an ounce of malice in her voice, though a few months ago, there surely would have been. "Back to the topic at hand,"

Oliver cut her off, his voice so loud it made everyone in the shop fall silent. "I never heard you were seeing anyone." He gritted his teeth. "Anyone I know?"

"Oh, undoubtedly." Still, Hermione skirted around the topic, not all that sure of what she and Harry had become. Though that was her insecurity talking, she didn't fancy having it wind up in the Daily Prophet because she blurted it in public. "Not that it's any of your business." She added.

Oliver didn't say another word as he walked away from her, and stormed from the shop altogether. Hermione blinked.

How odd.

* * *

Hermione visited another shop after settling on a new pair of gloves, and the last minute, impulse buy of a new broomstick. Looking at the now shrunk package that contained the latest model, she hoped it wouldn't seem excessive to Harry. It wasn't as if the Ministry hadn't just given her a holiday bonus, and she knew he was still riding his Firebolt from Sirius.

This shop was different, and she was happy to buy the first red set in her size and hurry home. Now that the rest of her extended family was arriving, she walked in the front door after apparating closely to the house.

The scene that waited for her made her burst into laughter. Three glasses full of what must have been spiked eggnog rested on the table. Harry sat across from Mildred and Matilda, his gaze not breaking from the cards in his hand. Hermione muffled a laugh with the back of her back so as not to disturb his concentration.

"They've been at it for an hour." Her father said, coming to her side. "That's some man you've brought home with you." He murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Mildred tried to convince him to play strip poker. He wouldn't do it."

Hermione snorted. "That's good." She didn't want to imagine the jokes they would be on the receiving end of if her family had seen the scratches adorning his back. "Who do you think will lose?"

Mr Granger laughed. "We have a pool going in the kitchen if you'd like to join in. I bet on Harry, so did your mum, but the rest of the family is betting on one of the twins."

She grinned. "Twenty pounds on Matilda," Hermione told him, pulling the bill from her handbag. "I've seen her in pubs." Hermione didn't mention that she could see the winning hand already and that Harry had probably lost long before she walked in the door. "I'll be right back. I'm going to go leave this in my room."

Once in her room, Hermione laid the long package on her bed, restoring it to its normal size. The clerk in the shop had wrapped it of her, asking her if there was a name she'd like to include on the gift tag. No doubt an attempt to coax information from her - everyone was _still_ so nosy, even so long after the war. Hermione pulled the middle drawer of her desk open, taking the ballpoint pen in her hand as she scribbled his name. She tucked it neatly beneath the bed frame, out of sight.

The next thing she wanted to do had her stomach in knots. "Insecurities," she muttered, setting the bag at the foot of the bed. He'd already seen her naked, so wearing lingerie shouldn't be so much different. Admittedly, it was probably the idea of gifting herself that made her gnaw her lip.

Hermione peeled her shirt over her head and pushed her jeans down her legs. Leaving the garments in a pile, she unclasped her bra and tossed it into the pile. Next came her knickers, and she pulled the flimsy fabric from the bag.

While she was nervous, there was a smug smirk on her face as she thought Harry wouldn't know what hit him.

* * *

Harry bumped his shoulder as they sat in the den, a fire crackling before them. "What did you get me?" He grinned, wrapping an arm around her as she tipped her mug to her lips. "Did you think I wouldn't notice you were gone earlier?"

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you what it was." She chastised, turning her nose up. His fingers were drifting up and down her spine. "I think you'll enjoy it. What did you get me?" Hermione asked. "Not that I expected -"

Despite her family looking on, Harry ducked his head and kissed her. Hermione sighed, her hand raising to cup his face. Pulling away from her sooner than she would have liked, Harry produced a small package that was unmistakably a book. "I would like it to be noted that I bought this before we ever left, and this was not an attempt to get into your knickers." He whispered in her ear before kissing her hair and pulling her into the curve of his body.

Gingerly tearing the wrapping from the gift, she quickly realized it was a copy of Pride and Prejudice. "Did you know how much I loved this book before we came here, Mr I-Remember-Everything?"

He nodded, lifting her by the hips and settling her into his lap while they sat on the couch. "You used to read it at the Burrow. You would go down by the biggest tree, and stay there for hours."

She arched an eyebrow. "Harry, that's been years since I last did that. I haven't spent enough time at the Burrow since Ron and I parted ways."

He shrugged, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I read it once while away on auror training. Ron gave me shite for it, but I was curious."

"You read all of it?" She asked.

"Well.." he trailed off, "most of it."

She snorted. "You only read the ending, didn't you? You can't appreciate Mr Darcy's character if you don't read all of it."

At first, she didn't understand. She had several copies since the book was a default gift from all of her friends, even if it was a Muggle book. Or they would buy her copies of _Hogwarts: A History_ , a running joke at this point. Ron had bought her four of them, all of them being the newest edition, not that she was complaining. Hermione left the gift wrap fall to the floor as she flipped the book open, running her fingers along the title page.

Upon flipping the page, she shrieked. Matilda dropped her eggnog, rushing forward to lean over the couch so she could see.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears as she looked up at him. "You bought me a first edition?" She murmured, setting the book on the cushion beside them and throwing her arms around his neck.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," Harry said softly, smoothing her hair as he wrapped her into a tight embrace.

It was only right that Mildred shattered the quaint moment with, "Oh, he is _definitely_ getting laid tonight."

Hermione wasn't in a mind to care much at all.

* * *

Once her extended family returned to their hotels for the night, and her parents and great aunts had retired to their rooms, Hermione took his hand and led him up the stairs. "I'm so glad you came with me." She said, closing the door behind her. The lock clicked into place, and she cast the appropriate charms before turning to face him. "You've really made this the most wonderful Christmas."

He tucked his hands into his pockets. "I should be thanking you, not the other way around."

"You have a choice to make." Hermione hedged, nearly talking herself out of it once more, but that wouldn't do. "I did buy you a gift, and it's under the bed if you would like it."

His eyes narrowed on her slipping off her jacket, her shoes, and stepping forward. "What's my other choice?" Harry asked, catching her hand with his own.

She swallowed. "Me?" Hermione squeaked, staring at the carpet beneath her feet.

"That's a stupid question." He rasped, tilting her chin up. "Always you." Harry hugged her close, but let her lead him onto the bed while she slid her hands up his chest.

She straddled his waist, hands dropping to the hem of his shirt as she pulled it over his head. There were scars marring his chest, some from the war, some from his career as an auror. "Harry," she whined as he pinched her nipple through her shirt. Hermione traced the long scar from the bottom of his stomach up to his sternum. "What is this?" She asked.

His fingers twined in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her neck. "Werewolf nearly got ahold of me during a full moon once." He growled, nipping the base of her throat. "Six months ago. I would have died without the healer."

Hermione vaguely remembered the night. "I never knew it left a scar like this."

He nodded. "Do you like this shirt?"

She blinked. The royal blue blouse had been hanging in her closet for almost a full year, and this was the first she'd worn it. "Not particularly - Harry!"

Harry ripped the blouse open, buttons scattering across the bed. She might have teased him for acting like a caveman, but the words died in her throat as his eyes raked over her. "Is this what you meant when you said you were my present, Hermione?"

"The knickers match."

"Show me then," Harry asked with a sly smile.

She slid from his lap, hooking her fingers in her waistband and sliding the loose skirt to the floor. His reaction didn't disappoint as he took her in, his eyes growing darker. "You're so fucking pretty." He groaned, reaching out to slide his finger against her clit.

"So you've told me." Hermione gasped. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Happy Christmas to me in-fucking-deed." He growled, gripping her hips and pulling her forward. "Would you let me spank you again?" His question was accented by his palm sliding over the supple skin. "Would you let me bend you over my knee?"

Breathless, Hermione nodded, and she let him position her. It was unlike anything she'd ever done before, she thought as he bent her over his knee on the bed. "Harry," she whined, wiggling her arse when he teased her with slow touches, featherlight movements of his fingers.

His hand came down hard on her arse, drawing a moan from her. "Fuck." He groaned, massaging the skin before striking the soft flesh again, harder this time.

She choked on a whimper, adjusting herself where her elbows were digging into the mattress, and her arse was raised higher. "Mm, gods, please."

His fingers slid along her folds, parting them as he rubbed her clit. "You're dripping for me." Circling her clit, he smirked while she gripped the sheets tightly. He pumped two fingers into her tight cunt, feeling her walls futter around them.

She writhed in his lap, moaning his name over and over again as he curled his fingers inside of her. "I should -" she broke off, shuddering as his thumb circled her clit, applying pressure. "I should touch you." Hermione gasped raggedly.

He slapped her arse, surely leaving a handprint on her pale skin. "What do you have in mind?"

Her body still shaking as he fingered her, she lost the train of thought as she melted under him. "I want your cock in my mouth." Hermione whimpered. He stilled just as she was on the edge of her orgasm. Her cheeks heating up as she realized exactly what she'd just said, Hermione moved off his lap. Sitting with her legs tucked under her, she said, "I meant it."

He unbuttoned his trousers, followed by his boxers.

Hermione reached for him, taking his hard length into her hand, and stroking him. Harry hissed, fingers delving into her hair as she slid to her knees before him while he sat at the edge of the bed.

The first flick of her tongue was purely experimental, just to see if she could drag the low groan from him. Still sliding her hand along his shaft, she leaned forward, her eyes closing as she closed her mouth around the tip. Whimpering at how his fingers tightened in her hair, urging her to take him farther, Hermione slowly slid her mouth down, her tongue laving the underside of his cock. She was by no means an expert - there's that niggling self-doubt creeping in - but the soft, "please," falling from him encouraged her.

Hermione's hand slid between her thighs, rubbing the sensitive nub as her cheeks hollowed. All too quickly it was over as quickly as it began. "I want you." He groaned, tugging her hair and guiding her to her feet. Harry summoned his wand, casting a contraceptive charm against her belly.

If she'd thought foreplay was intense, well, it was nothing compared to the anticipation thrumming in her stomach as he whispered in her ear to get on her hands and knees. This was a wholly different side of Harry, she thought as he spanked her arse, and murmured, "So pretty with my handprint on you."

She swallowed, pressing herself back against him. "Please," was all she managed with the feel of his cock sliding against her slick folds.

Harry's large hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place so she couldn't push herself back to take him. He was torturously slow with her, teasing her with each thrust, but never sliding fully into her. "Fuck," he growled, low under his breath.

She clawed the sheets, whimpering and moaning for him. "Harry, please, I'm begging -" Hermione admitted she'd never screamed before, but that she did as he slid into her fully in one thrust.

He whispered to her how tight her cunt was wrapped around him, that she was gorgeous writhing below him, his name falling from her lips. And ultimately in the end, how fucking perfect she was when she finally shattered.

* * *

She woke before anyone else in the house, much as she always did. "Harry?" Hermione whispered, reaching across the beg. Her fingers were met with his bare skin. He groaned, rolling onto his side to face her. "Wake up." She murmured, tickling his side.

Harry jerked, headbutting her and nearly splitting her lip in the process. His eyes shooting open, he apologized. "Oh, fuck, are you okay?"

Hermione nodded, wiping her mouth, her hand coming away free of blood. "Well, I'm not happy you punched me; you do know that's not what they mean by deck the halls, don't you?"

Harry's chest rumbled with laughter as he reached for her, pulling her into the curve of him. "If I remember correctly, you told me I had two presents. I'd like that other one now."

The corner up her lip lifted. "What if I tell you the second surprise is only me in different lingerie this time?" Hermione grinned as he propped himself up, hovering over her.

"I would hope you've realized we wouldn't be leaving the bed at all. Not a bad way to spend Christmas, is it?"

Hermione rolled away from him, reaching over the side of the bed, and grabbing the wrapped broomstick. While she did so he spanked her once more. "Happy Christmas, Harry." She murmured, holding the box out to him while pulling the sheets to cover her breasts.

His eyes lit up, riddled with disbelief as he raked his fingers through his hair. "Merlin, you went all out, didn't you?"

She laughed, leaning against the headboard, and letting her head fall to the side. "You're still riding that Firebolt from Sirius. You should have a newer model to use regularly, and you could display the firebolt. What are you waiting for? Open it." Hermione urged him.

He sat in silence, having since grabbed his glasses from the table, and he stared at the box in his hands. "I had no idea you were to Diagon Ally."

"Yes," she smiled, "there's an interesting story there too, but first I want to see your face when you open it."

He tore the wrapping off the package in pieces, each of them falling to the blanket. Harry's eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. "This is the newest model, Hermione. I know you said I needed a newer model, but this - this must have cost -"

Hermione crawled across the bed, setting the broom beside them, and framed his face in her hands. He fell silent as she pressed her lips softly to his, his hands finding hers, and lacing their fingers together. "The Ministry was particularly generous with our holiday bonuses this year, and I wanted to be sure you enjoyed your gift." She murmured.

Harry grinned as he leaned his forehead to hers. "I enjoyed one a bit more than the other."

She scoffed, collapsing against him as she laughed. "I wonder which one that could be. My family will be awake soon. Are you ready for your last day with the Grangers?"

He kissed her temple. "I suppose we'd better make the most of it then."

* * *

There was something to be said about the smile that stayed on his face throughout the day. Harry drank in the holiday, and Hermione could only watch from her spot on the couch. Sure, he'd always been happy to see the Weasleys at Christmas, but there was something to be said about the way he effortlessly fit in with her family.

In passing, he whispered in her ear that this was his favourite Christmas. "For several reasons." He told her, backing her toward the countertop. "Would you look at that?" Harry smirked, pointing at the mistletoe above them. "Would you mind terribly?"

"I would mind terribly if you didn't." Hermione giggled, stretching up on her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck.

She was sad to see the day go, but time was not on their side as they found herself in her bedroom packing once more.

"You said there was a story to be told about when you were in Diagon Ally?" Harry asked, not bothering to fold his clothes, and just tossing them into his bag. "What was that about?"

Truth be told, she'd completely forgotten about Oliver and his rude behaviour. "I ran into Oliver. He behaved strangely." Hermione said nonchalantly, shrugging.

"Oh? Strange how?"

"Well," she paused, placing her hands on her hips and sighing. "I'm fairly certain he was going to ask me to go home with him. He was oddly playful, and he pretended to be hurt when I didn't call him Oli."

Harry arched an eyebrow.

"Then he asked me if I was shopping for Ron, and I told him I was seeing someone." Hermione finished, reaching for her first edition and carefully setting it in her suitcase.

"Let me guess, he didn't take it so well?"

She shook her head. "He tried to convince me to tell him who you were."

Harry chuckled. "You should have told him."

Hermione grimaced. "Well...I wasn't entirely sure what we were yet, and I didn't want to expose you to gossip."

He snorted, zipping his bag and throwing himself onto the bed. "I know you're going to worry how this could negatively impact our friendship,"

"It very well could ruin our entire friendship." She blurted, but Hermione probably hadn't cared since he tossed her into a snowbank. "I didn't tell Oliver because I didn't want to assume I'd earned myself a spot as a permanent romantic fixture in your life."

"We've done this all arse backwards, but I want to give this a try because I know it won't fail. You've built it up in your mind that you're a terrible girlfriend, but I have a hard time believing that after having you as my fake girlfriend."

A giggle bubbled up and she nodded. "I want to." Hermione agreed, and he rolled out of the bed. "Merlin, Ron is going to have kittens."

Harry roared with laughter. Wiping his eye - a complete show on his part - he nodded. "He won't be angry. Shocked at first, maybe a bit jealous, but he'll accept it." That she had a hard time believing, but realistically Ron had eventually learned to support her. "How do you fancy a third date?" Harry asked, peering down at her, his eyes uncharacteristically bright behind the wire rims of his glasses.

She put on a front as if she were weighing the options. "I hear there's a Quidditch match coming up." Hermione murmured, choosing to pick a date for him this time. "Would you like to go with me?"

* * *

Oliver had started with Puddlemere upon graduating from Hogwarts so long ago. Now, however, he was a keeper for the Falmouth Falcons. When she'd suggested they go to a professional quidditch match, she hadn't meant they should watch Oliver.

To be fair, he was a prick, dumping her on Christmas Eve and everything.

Harry led her by the hand as they took their seats. Nearly the best seats in the stands and she teased him for using his auror rank to get the seats he had. In front of them, they could see the banners for the Chudley Cannons on the opposing side.

She sipped her pumpkin juice as she settled in her seat, laying her head on Harry's shoulder. "Do you have any plans after this?"

"Beyond ravishing you?" He chuckled, glancing down at her. "Not particularly."

She rolled her eyes. "I have to visit my office after the match. Katie had some problems with paperwork, and by problems, I mean it's fucking vanished." Hermione gritted her teeth. "Afraid I'll have to pass on the ravishing tonight." She laughed, sliding her arm through his. "We could have a late dinner if you like."

He hummed, wrapping an arm around her back. "I'll bring you dinner."

She didn't object. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, what are they doing?" Hermione groaned, pointing up at the sky where there was an enlarged picture of the crowd in the sky. It skimmed across the faces in the stands.

"Whoever it lands on has to snog," Harry explained.

"That's ridiculous."

There was loud fanfare as both teams entered, zipping around on their brooms. She caught sight of Oliver, who didn't notice her in the slightest. "Hermione.." Harry nudged her, and she realized the stadium had fallen silent. Despite the match already kicking off, there were no eyes on either team. "It seems we need to snog." He grinned ear to ear.

Hermione smiled, red painting her cheeks as she lifted her bag to hide them from view as his mouth slanted against hers. The crowd erupted into applause, and she covered her smile behind her hand as Harry looked as if he were the cat that finally got the cream.

The _only_ thing that could have made it even more satisfying was accidentally making eye contact with Oliver Wood. He was stunned, his mouth had fallen open, and then -

He was struck by a stray bludger.

* * *

 **If you read all the way through, thank you! I'd love to hear your thoughts. This was my second foray into Harmony, and I will probably write a WIP for them soon.**


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